


The Rose Coloured Potion

by PedanticDictionary, Sanrodri



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-10-07
Packaged: 2018-02-09 03:26:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 40,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1967241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PedanticDictionary/pseuds/PedanticDictionary, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanrodri/pseuds/Sanrodri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's five years after the war and Harry Potter is tired of the expectations and Ministry politics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Harry Potter

Lights flashed above Harry's head as multiple curses barely missed him. He ducked and slid across floor, stopping behind a conveniently placed, large rubbish bin.

"Oi! Harry! Stop playing around and finish them! If I'm not home in time for dinner, 'Mione is going to kill me!"

Harry gave an abandoned laugh. It was true that he could have ended this fight and gone home already, but what would be the fun in that?

"Go on ahead!" Harry jumped out from behind the bin and shot a stunning charm, hitting the tallest of his attackers square in the chest. Ron hit the blond one, leaving only one man left. "I said go on ahead!"

"Come off it! You know I'd get in trouble!" A jinx barely missed Ron as he rolled behind the rubbish bin, pulling Harry with him. The two crashed to the ground.

"You've been spending too much time with Hermione." Harry grinned and pushed himself off the dirty floor, not noticing his ruined uniform. He turned his attention to the broad shouldered man who was shouting spells just feet away.

"AVADAKEDAVRA!"

Ron rolled his eyes and Harry burst into laughter. That was going to earn the man a few years in Azkaban.

"Oi, it's almost six!"

Harry shrugged his shoulders and stepped out from his hiding spot. He figured Ron was right. He should end this now, plus, he would start to get bored soon.

"Stupefy," said Harry calmly. The man froze and fell to the floor. Ron stepped out from behind the rubbish bin, cursing as he dusted himself off.

"She's going to give me hell. We still have to take them away and fill out the paperwork." Harry groaned. He hated doing paperwork. Maybe if he pretended to be overpowered by the tall one... He was starting to wake up a bit... "Don't even think about it, mate. Let's go."

"Merlin, you  _have_ been spending too much time with her." Ron used a simple binding charm so that Harry could apparate them away. Then they were going to be in for an hour of tedious paperwork before they would be free to go home for the day, and even that relief would only be brief. There was a department meeting in the morning that they had to prepare for.

Harry sighed as he apparated the men to a holding facility. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

"Next up is the Johnson case. Diggins and Marcus were assigned to it last week. They have a few leads, but they have not been able to find Johnson yet. Potter, do you think you could take a look at the evidence?" Harry sat slumped in his chair as he read a Quidditch article that he had snuck into his quarterly report file. He was reading about the newest diving techniques and taking mental notes to try certain moves later. "Potter?"

Harry snapped his head up.

"Er...Yes?"

"Wonderful! We will get that to you right away to look over. Now, Weasley, can you tell us about the Stevenson, Stevenson, and Knightley case?"

Ron cleared his throat and leaned forward before going into a detailed explanation of the battle from the night before and how one of the men had tried to use an  
unforgivable curse.

Harry wondered what on earth he had agreed to. It could be either very bad or very good. On one hand, he could have agreed to more fieldwork which meant more action. Or, also a fun possibility, he might be doing investigative work. But if he had agreed to look over paperwork or adjust files...

"Excuse me."

Hermione Granger stepped into the conference room and cleared her throat  
softly.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" answered the head Auror.

"I was wondering if I could borrow Auror Potter for a few moments. I need his expertise on an assignment."

"Of course, Weasley can finish the report." Hermione gave a polite smile as Harry stood up a bit too eagerly, gave a clumsy bow, and hurried out of the room, closing the door tightly behind him.

"You sav-"

"Shh! Follow me," whispered Hermione. The two walked down the hall into Harry's office. Harry looked around at the crimson and gold decorations, the piles of disorganized papers, and the pile of unopened chocolate frogs he had received for his birthday a week ago. It occurred to him that he had modeled his office around his old dormitory a bit too much.

"So, what's all this about?"

"Don't pretend you aren't grateful that I got you out of there. You hate those meetings." Harry sat down behind his desk and motioned for Hermione to take a seat as well. He put up his feet and leaned back in his chair to stretch his back before continuing the conversation.

"Eternally grateful." Hermione perked up in her seat. "But not enough to go to the charity ball tonight." And there was the frown he had been waiting for.

"Harry, please."

"Why? Because it is my duty as a ministry official? Or because it is my duty as ministry poster boy? Because I killed Voldemort? Or because I defeated countless wizards since then? Don't you think, just a bit, that all those things grant me a night off? A night where I don't have to have dinner with the leader of Bloody Nowhere country or be forced to talk to an array of people who I don't know and don't care to know?"

Hermione gave a sympathetic nod.

"Yes. You do deserve that. But-" Harry gave an exasperated sigh. "Harry! Please. You've been alone long enough. I was thinking you could take a date," Harry snorted, "OR you could meet someone there."

"That's even less likely than taking a date."

"It's for charity. To help orphans of the war who are still suffering." Harry leaned onto his desk and buried his face in the crook of his arm. Why did everyone always guilt him this way? It was getting to a point that he didn't care anymore. He didn't care about the orphans or the deaths. It had been five years, and all he wanted to do was have a bit of fun catching the bad guy and then sleep. He needed to sleep for a good long while... "Harry, you are acting like a child."

"Fine," he mumbled into the crook of his arm. "Just leave me alone."

Harry felt a slender hand on his shoulder.

"I'm just trying to help, Harry. You can't be alone forever."

It was funny, really. The more people tried to make sure that he wasn't alone, the lonelier he felt.


	2. Draco Malfoy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet grown up Draco.

The sallow face that stared out of the mirror would have frightened Draco Malfoy several years ago. He would have been horrified that he had allowed himself to reach such a state, mortified that he had gone out in public in such a state, and terrified at what his father would do to him for being in such a state. Now, however, five years after the end of the war, he couldn't be bothered to care. He knew he had to, knew he had to look presentable, knew he had to be more stately than he felt, but he just couldn't muster the energy to care about how he looked. He went through the motions of shaving, making sure he'd done the job right, and went through the motions of braiding his hair the way he did on days he actually felt like being alive. When his hair was braided, he looked back into the mirror. Clean-shaven and with his hair away from his face, he didn't look quite so haggard, but he still had dark purple bags under his eyes, and a frown that seemed to be frozen in place where he used to be able to smirk and sneer.

"What have the years done to me?" he said aloud, and jumped at the sound. He hadn't meant to speak. The words had just come out accidentally. He sighed, thought for a moment, and decided that since he hadn't put on his dress robes yet, it was alright for him to curl up in a ball on the floor and try not to lose it. He hated the times when he had comparatively little to do other than think, because those were the times he usually fell apart. After about a half an hour of near-hyperventilation, he dragged himself up off the floor and looked in the mirror again, thinking how he could cover up the bags under his eyes. He settled for a muggle cover-up, not feeling it was worth it to use magic to cover up the purple discoloration. That done, he made his way to his bedroom, where his deep emerald dress robes hung, perfectly pressed and ready to be worn. He slowly changed into them, being careful to do each button slowly, so that his hands wouldn't shake. His hands tended to shake when he was feeling like this. Because of his care, it took far longer than it should have to finally get the dress robes on. He left the bathroom and went to the staircase in the lavishly green parlor, assuming a haughty air with only a slight bit of difficulty as he descended the stairs to the potions shop beneath his flat.

The potions shop was simple but elegant, with dark hardwood flooring and a pale green patterned wallpaper, though the latter was barely visible from all the shelves against the walls. Each of the shelves was filled with various ingredients for potions, most of them common. There were some rarer ingredients, but these were in the locked cupboard behind the simple wooden counter, only to be taken out by Draco himself per a customer's request, to prevent theft. There were a few display tables, arranged strategically on the floor of the shop, with some simple, ready-made potions on them. Some of these simpler potions could be used as bases for other potions, which was the entire reason for Draco's selling them. Most shops would just trust the customer to make the base potions themselves, but Draco had found that there was a high demand for these ready-made potions. As he walked through the shop in his dress robes, looking over his various wares, the ghost of a smile stole onto his face. The shop was his pride and joy, his prized accomplishment. It was something that was entirely his, something nobody could take from him. Being inside of it always made him feel better, if only for the span of time during which he was there. He ran his fingertips over the polished wood of one of the display tables and finally made his way to the door, unlocking it to let himself out and locking it again once he was outside. The ghost of a smile disappeared as soon as he was outside the shop, and he took a deep breath to steel himself before apparating as close to the ball as he could get. People were already inside, of course, and other people were arriving around him in much the same fashion as he himself had arrived. Draco started to walk towards the entrance, not bothering to put on a smile until he was close enough to smell the champagne being served inside and the multitude of overapplied perfumes and colognes within.

"What is a Death Eater doing here?"

"Why did he even bother showing his face? It's a lost cause."

"I think it's admirable what he's trying to do, even if there's no chance in all the world he'll succeed."

"How did he even manage to get an invitation? He can't possibly have made a contribution. He's a Death Eater!"

Draco let these comments and others slide past him as he entered the ballroom, nodding and smiling to those who deigned him civilized enough to greet. He was used to such cold greetings. The Dark Mark on his arm may have been covered, but everyone in the room still knew who he was and what his family had done. It was part of the reason he was there: He wanted to better his family's reputation through his own. He wasn't like his family. He felt guilty, too, for what all of Voldemort's supporters had done, and he wanted to help as much as he possibly could. He had, in fact, donated to the organization for which the ball was being held, and they had sent him an invitation as thanks for his donation, albeit grudgingly, as a separate note carried by the same owl had noted. Draco recalled having received a Howler from his father over that. He looked around at the general splendor of the place – three crystal chandeliers, two smaller and one larger, hung from the ceiling, and opulent curtains were drawn back from intricate French windows. A set of doors opened onto a garden, and Draco could see roses near the doors. It was sure to be a beautiful garden. Each table had an enchanted crystal centerpiece that danced around the pristine tabletops, smiling at and interacting with all those seated around them. There was an orchestra made up of nothing but enchanted instruments playing themselves, and in front of the orchestra, an expanse of empty floor for those inclined to do so to dance.

Draco took all of this in as he talked as pleasantly as he could manage to the few people open-minded enough to talk to him. He scanned the guests, too, noting the abundance of Ministry officials. The Minister for Magic was there, and Draco recognized much of the jury from his father's trial. There were Aurors, of course, and others from the Auror Department, mostly chatting amongst themselves. So many important people were scattered throughout the ballroom it was impossible to see them all, but one person in particular caught Draco's eye and wouldn't let the blonde look away. Even from the distance Draco was at, he could see the green eyes clearly, and the dark, messy hair, and the distinctive glasses.

Sitting miserably across the ballroom, as if he wanted nothing to do with the place, was one Harry James Potter, and Draco couldn't drag his eyes away.


	3. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Draco meet and trouble arises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our views do not reflect those of our characters. As for the term "gay" or "bisexual", we both understand that sexuality is fluid. However, our characters might not have learned about sexuality as we have. Thank you and enjoy!

The decorations were…lavish. The people were…elegant. Harry  _supposed_  that the ball must seem nice enough to the witches and wizards around him, but to him it was nothing more than a prison.

No.  _Worse_  than a prison. At least in prison he could be left more or less alone. He had been forced to suffer through constant questions and introductions and greetings and compliments. After about half an hour of torture, he managed to get away and find an empty chair in a dark corner where he could sulk unobserved by the silly fans and the business men looking for an endorsement from the famous Harry Potter.

Harry sat, trying to avoid catching anyone's eyes, as he thought about his invitation to this pointless ball. The point was to raise money for orphaned children of the war. A witch or wizard had to pay a hefty sum in donation money to receive a ticket and then they were rewarded with a fantastic ball. However, Harry figured that all the money that went into putting together the ball could have been better used if it just went toward the children as well. He wondered how much of the donation money actually went to the children and how much went into throwing this stupid gathering.

Harry sighed and looked up to scan the room for Hermione. He figured he had been here long enough and it was time to say good bye. As he looked about him, a pale head of hair amongst the sea of brown caught his eyes.

Draco Malfoy? And was he staring at him?

The man continued to look at Harry even after their eye's had met. The extended visual content stirred something that Harry had not felt in ages. A thrill rushed through as he stood and made his way to the blond, ignoring taps on his shoulders and his name being called along the way.

"Malfoy."

"Hello, Potter." The sound of his surname being spoken by such a vile man brought back a surge of years of memories and for a moment Harry felt as he did when he was on the field, fighting an enemy..

"What are you doing here?" Malfoy shifted slightly before answering with a frown.

"I donated money to help the orphans of the war." The two stood silently until a young woman approached them and asked Harry to dance. She was wearing a long blue gown and batted her lashes flirtatiously. Harry glared at her. He was tired of women throwing himself at him. If he wanted to be with someone, then he would be. Why didn't anyone under- "Excuse me, miss? I'm sorry. But my acquaintance here, Mr. Potter, is not feeling well and does not wish to dance at the moment." Malfoy gave a dazzling smile, but the woman just scowled at him and looked to Harry again.

"He's right. Please leave." The woman seemed taken aback but then simply smiled and left. Harry wondered how rude he would have to be for people to stop idolizing him. What horrible deed would he have to commi-

"Well, you seemed preoccupied with your thoughts. It was nice seeing you, Potter. Excuse me while I go to get a drink."

"No, wait. What are you doing here?"

"I told you, I"

"WHAT ARE YOU-"

Harry felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Ron standing on his right, his eyes blazing at Malfoy. He then turned to his left and saw Hermione on his other side. She did not seemed upset, by her arms were crossed as if she were ready to scold someone for not doing their homework.

Malfoy took a slight step back.

"Scared, Malfoy?"

"I'm just giving you your space. I'm sure you get your fair share of crowds. Just trying to make sure you are comfortable."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hermione grabeed his arm.

"Harry…He has just come to enjoy the ball like we have." Harry shrugged her of and took three steps forward, stopping just inches from Malfoy's face.

"Get. Out."

"Excuse me?"

"It doesn't matter how much money you donate, Malfoy. It's not going to erase that mark on your arm. You can't wipe out your crimes with money."

Malfoy's lip twitched.

"Are you going to arrest me, Potter? You current glory isn't enough? You need to bully an innocent ma-"

"YOU AREN'T INNOCENT."

"Do. Not. Yell. At. Me. Please."

Harry got a flash of a memory in which the blond had used the words filthy little mud-

"Then leave. We don't need filthy little death eaters here." Malfoy shook his head no and Harry punched him in the face.

"HARRY! Why on earth!"

"Good going, mate!"

"Mr. Potter! Did Mr. Malfoy hurt you?"

"Someone escort the death eater from the premises! He tried to harm Harry Potter!"

"Finally someone hit him!"

Harry watched as three large men grabbed Draco Malfoy to escort him away. Lights flashed about them and reporters sribbled madly on tiny pads of parchment.

"WAIT!" hollered Harry. "I'll escort him out. Don't touch me, Diggins. I'll be fine. I'm an Auror, remember?" He grabbed hold of the top of Malfoy's arm and pulled him along the dance floor toward a back exit. As he walked away with the death eater in tow, a roar of applause broke out behind him.

* * *

"Why were you here!"

"I told you, imbecile! I donated money!"

"Shut up! You're up to something and I know it!"

"I'm not! I don't do those things anymore!"

Harry pulled the man by his robes and then slammed him against the alley wall.

"Don't lie to me." Malfoy looked at him, a strange fire growing in his eyes and head butted Harry, causing his vision to go white as he staggered backward. "Bloody, little-"

"I DID NOT COME HERE FOR THIS. I DID NOTHING WRONG!"

Harry shook his head and then found Malfoy's eyes again.

A flash of a memory. Harry was fighting the blond in a bathroom.

"Right. Because history has taught us that Draco Malfoy does NOTHING WRONG!"

"WHAT ABOUT YOU!" The frail looking man shoved him. "You aren't as innocent and wonderful as everyone thinks! You almost killed me, remember?! You used dark magic! And what about everyone that died for you?! You didn't win the war on your own, Potter! You aren't a god and you can't treat people this way!"

Harry's world trembled. Nobody had spoken to him that way since the war ended. Not even the people who had been fighting next to him. And yet he couldn't shake the hate he felt for the blond.

"You're worthless."

Malfoy was breathing heavily now, his upper lip bleeding slightly.

"What?"

"You are a good for nothing coward. And you were always a good for nothing coward."

"At least I'm not a sad man, trying to relive my glory days by abusing an innocent people in an alleyway."

Harry growled.

"You aren't innocent."

"And who is? Because you sure as hell are not."

The blond wiped his bloody lip on his sleeve, an action that Harry never would have expected from such a vain man, and then turned on the spot to disapparate with a crack.

Harry stood, shaken by the blond's words but filled with a strange elation that he hadn't felt since his time at Hogwarts. He thought it would be fun to ride his excitement out with a drink.

* * *

Hours later, Harry Potter was woken from a drunken sleep by a light streaming through a window. His head drummed with every movement, yet he somehow managed, without throwing up, to make his way to his bathroom where the shower was already running.

What?

He stumbled toward the shower curtain and threw it back, exposing a tan man who was smiled back at him.

"Will you be joining me in the shower, Neville?"

Harry blinked and dragged a lazy hand through his hair.

"What?"

The tan man laughed, his chest rumbling.

"You're drunk. Come on, the shower will help."

"Who are you?"

The man laughed again, his muscles stretching with every laugh.

"We met last night and you brought me here. Oh, and you told me to remind you that you put your stick in your cupboard."

Harry clumsy stepped into the shower as the strange man pulled him in. The stranger dropped to his knees and began to remove Harry's shorts.

"What? But…my stick?"

"Some wooden stick you were carrying around. Like a cheap magician's wand or something. You really don't remember anything?" Harry was still drunk. His head was cloudy and he still wasn't completely sure if he was actually awake. Why on earth would he have brought a man back to his place? He never brought back strange women so why on earth would he bring back a  _man?_ "Well, handsome, maybe you will remember this."

The man took Harry's length into his mouth, eliciting a loud moan from the Auror.

"Well…" Harry thought to himself through his drunken haze, "I suppose I'm gay."


	4. Special Level of Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No summary

Somewhere in muggle London, Harry Potter was getting impossibly drunk, to the point that he couldn't remember being seduced by a man he didn't know and – at the time – didn't care to know beyond having sex with once. At the same time, Draco Malfoy was pacing his flat in nothing but his undershirt and trousers, his usually-immaculate hair a complete and utter mess, as he attempted to keep his emotions in check. For perhaps the thirtieth time in the past two minutes, he buried his fingers in what remained of his braid and tugged at it to keep himself from falling apart. This method was becoming less and less effective, and eventually, he began to cry, but he continued to pace, trying to keep it from getting worse; this proved ineffective when he simply collapsed to the floor from the force of a sob. Harry Potter had, in a few short seconds, destroyed five years' worth of hard work.

From his place on the floor, Draco tried to find something to grab onto for comfort, something to squeeze, to make the hurt go away. All of that work, for nothing…and of course, his father would hear about this disaster and would write to gloat about it, telling Draco that he was a failure, as he had always been. But that wouldn't happen until the morning edition of the Prophet came out. For the time being, all that Draco had was time to mourn what he had accomplished. He wanted to hide away forever, he wanted to no longer exist, but he knew that couldn't happen. He had to keep his chin up, at least in public. However, these thoughts were not the predominant ones; what was predominant was a memory.

The shop had just opened. Draco had finally been able to find a suitable property to open up his shop in, and had made all the necessary preparations. He had even taken the time to place protective spells that would keep vandals and bigots from destroying the shop while still allowing customers to enter. The Daily Prophet, of course, thought it ludicrous that a Death Eater would be a respectable businessman, and so ran a spread on the absurdity of the idea which, counter to their intentions and expectations, attracted customers to the shop, people who wanted to see for themselves what all the hubbub was about. Among those attracted by the article was Lucius Malfoy himself.

"How foolish can you be, Draco? Our family is above such petty occupations!" the elder Malfoy hissed, sneering down his nose at his son, who instead of cowering, had retained his composure. "Are you so keen on besmirching our name?"

"To the contrary, Father," Draco replied, looking his father in the eye. "It is you who has besmirched the name of Malfoy, you who sullied our family by dealing with the Dark Lord. I'm only trying to clean the name up again, make it respectable again."

"Of course, because not only would it reflect well on the family, it would reflect well on you. I see." Lucius's sneer turned into a demeaning smirk, but still Draco stood firm.

"Do you want to be labeled a traitor to the entire wizarding world for the rest of your life?" Draco hissed. "Do you want Mother to be labeled as a traitor, simply for being your wife? Or don't you care about her? She risked her life to keep us both safe. She risked her life by standing by you when You Know Who rose to power again and you chose to continue to follow him, and she risked her life by lying to him just to know that I was alive. Do you want her to be hated forever because of your mistakes?"

That had been the last conversation the two had had face-to-face, and Draco was more than happy to be rid of the man. Over the years that had followed, Draco had, bit by bit, balanced out a significant chunk of the bad reputation his father had brought upon their family, and in just a few seconds at a charity ball, it had all been unbalanced again. By the time he had calmed himself enough to get up from the floor, it was time to get ready for another day. He had been up the whole night trying to get ahold of himself. After a few potions to wake himself up, Draco went to his bathroom and tidied his hair with slow, steady motions. He didn't have the energy to braid it again, so instead, he simply tied it back into a ponytail. He dressed in a simple white button-down shirt and black trousers, and sat down with the Daily Prophet that had been delivered. As expected, the front page was dominated by a photograph of Harry Potter and himself, just after the Auror had punched him in the face. Draco winced, and was glad that he had healed the injury with a spell as soon as he had gotten back to his flat. A few minutes later, an owl flew in through the window holding a letter that Draco assumed to be from his father. Upon further inspection, however, the letter was not addressed in Lucius Malfoy's handwriting, and bore the crest of the Ministry. Carefully, cautiously, Draco opened it and read it.

Dear Mr. Malfoy, It is with hesitance that I write this letter to you, as I am not sure how well-received both it and you will be, but we at the Auror Department require your assistance in a most urgent case involving a serial murderer. It is believed that the ingredients he uses in his deadly potions are purchased from your shop. If you would kindly report to our offices in the Ministry, more details will be provided as to the Aurors with whom you will be working and the precise nature of the case. Sincerely, Bilius Hacksby, Head of the Auror Department.

Draco even reread it, and still couldn't fully comprehend what he had read. After a few more times rereading the letter, Draco found a bit of parchment and penned a reply telling Bilius Hacksby, Head of the Auror Department, that he would have to wait to come in until he closed up shop for the day. After all, he had no one else to tend the shop when he was away, something he supposed he should fix someday soon, and he couldn't rightly have an unscheduled closing. He received a reply rather quickly, begrudgingly acknowledging the truth of what Draco had said, and agreeing upon a time. To his surprise, when he opened for the day, there were already customers waiting to come inside. He usually had customers waiting at opening time, but he had suspected that there would be fewer because of the article. Throughout the day, the number of customers remained consistent with his recent numbers, and eventually, he stopped questioning it.

Much later in the day, Draco Malfoy found himself sitting in the office of Bilius Hacksby, a short, stout man with a bald spot in the middle of his mousey brown hair and a strangely crooked mouth. The blond shifted uncomfortably in his chair even though he had done nothing wrong.

"Thank you for coming, Mr. Malfoy," the Head of the Auror Department said, his voice a nasal tenor which held no grace whatsoever. "I must inform you that I do have my reservations regarding the necessity of your assistance, but it appears that we can ask no one else."

"I'm happy to provide whatever assistance necessary, sir," Draco replied, knowing from where the reservations stemmed.

"I have even more reservations about your working with the aurors I've assigned to the case, in light of recent events," Hacksby said, making Draco truly nervous for the first time since he'd gotten to the office. "You'll be working with Aurors Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. They will need your full cooperation, and they will need to stake out your shop in order to identify their man. Here is a copy of all the details you will need presently in order to assist them. They are to report to your shop an hour before opening tomorrow. Good evening, Mr. Malfoy." Draco took the file he was handed and nodded numbly, leaving Hacksby's office and the Ministry itself without noticing the change of scenery.

He was to be working with Harry Potter. Closely. For an undetermined amount of time. He knew, before anything even happened, that whatever followed would be a special level of hell.


	5. Be Careful, Potter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No summary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry's confusion about his sexuality and the terms he uses to define it does not reflect the views of the authors. So if Harry describes himself as "gay" or "straight" or whatever he pleases because of his own actions, it does not mean that we, the authors, think as he does. Enjoy the story!

After an unpleasant nap, three pepper up potions, and a lot of worrying, Harry Potter decided to take out his journal, the only one he had written in since his second year at Hogwarts. It wasn't a diary, but rather a collection of scattered thoughts. Not being one to write down his every emotion, Harry used the journal to write down important tasks, funny jokes, a strange dream he didn't want to forget, and in certain situations, important life events.

And so he wrote, without bothering to write down the year or day.

_December._

_I'm gay. Or rather, I did things with a man. I don't know what that makes me. I haven't thought about women, or men, or anything for a long time. My job has been everything for years. But that's not the problem. I got drunk and took home a stranger. He was a muggle. Lucky nothing went wrong, but had I been attacked by a dark wizard or had I done magic while under the influence of whatever I drank, then I could not only have lost my job, but I could have lost a life. It would have been my first since before I started working for the Ministry. For the first time, in a long time._

Satisfied that this would keep him from making the same mistake twice, and bored already of writing, Harry closed the journal and set off to the Ministry. After all, there was work to be done.

* * *

"Harry Potter!"

"Hello, Kingsley." Harry half smiled and nodded at the Minister. "Any news?"

"As a matter of fact, there is. There is a sensitive topic that we need to discuss immediately. Meet me in my office in five minutes, and please bring Weasley. It concerns him too."

Harry raised an eyebrow, but Kingsley did nothing to clarify and walked away. Sighing, Harry turned his attention to finding Ron. His friend was no doubt hiding in their office, snacking on chocolate frogs. To Harry's surprise, the redhead was the one to find him. Just as Harry was about to step into his office, Ron tapped him on the shoulder. Harry, on instinct, grabbed Ron's arm and slammed him against the wall.

"Oi! What the bloody hell do you think you're doing!"

"Sorry, Ron! I…I wasn't thinking."

"Blimey… What's got you all wound up?"

Could it be that he may or may not be gay? Perhaps he was bisexual… Were labels really necessary? Or maybe it was the fact that he could have gotten an innocent muggle killed. Or maybe it was the strange anxiety he felt about going to see Kinglsey. Why  _was_ he wound up?

"Harry. Merlin, you alright?"

"Yeah. Kinglsey wants to see us."

"I know. Diggins told me a few minutes ago. But put yourself together first. You've gone pale."

Had he, really? He didn't feel as bad as Ron was making it out to be.

"I'm fine, Ron. Let's go talk to Kingsley so we can do some real work." Harry grinned for the first time that day. "Maybe we'll get lucky and get a challenge for once."

"Right. You're fine. As always. You aren't hiding your emotions behind your work at all."

Harry blinked.

"I'm sorry, Hermione, I hadn't realized you had taken a bit of Polyjuice Potion today."

Ron groaned.

"Oh, come off it!"

"Those words came straight out of her mouth, didn't they?"

"Well, she's worried, mate."

"All she does is worry."

There was a clearing of someone's throat which caused Harry and Ron to turn around. Standing before them was a severe looking Kingsley.

"Did I not say to meet me in my office?"

"Sorry! We got caught up in-"

"Yes, yes. I know, Harry. I wanted to do this quickly; I'm in a hurry. You have a new assignment." He handed the Aurors matching folders. "All the information is in there, bu- Please, don't open them yet. Thank you. As I was saying, everything you need to know is in there, but there is one piece of information that I thought I should tell you myself. Please, sit down ." Kingsley pointed through the doorway the lead to the two men's shared, yet spacious office.

Harry sat down and leaned back in his chair, putting his feet up. He was trying to give the impression that he was completely confident and relaxed, but by Kinglsey's expression, he was not doing a good job of acting.

"Harry, Ron,  _Auror Weasley_ , calm down. It isn't that bad. I just thought that Harry might…" The Minister cleared his throat. "Auror Potter. This is a mission unlike any other. You are to behave in a professional manner. That goes for you too, Weasley. It is an assignment that requires the assistance of a specialist. He has not agreed to help us just yet, but we are sure that he will agree to assist the Ministry and you both in the effo-"

"I'm sorry, Kings, but weren't you in a hurry?"

Kinglsey Shacklebolt sighed.

"Yes, of course. The specialist is Draco Malfoy. I realized that you two had an alterca-"

Harry had stopped listening after hearing, "Draco Malfoy." Maybe  _that's_ why he had been so anxious. He truly did regret his actions after he had thought about them with a clear mind. Malfoy hadn't really  _done_  anything to provoke Harry. In fact, he had been completely civil until… And yet, despite knowing that he had done wrong and feeling guilty, Harry felt a tinge of excitement roll through him as he relived the previous night. It wasn't his romantic adventure that had made the previous day so memorable, but rather the exhilaration when he had grabbed Draco Malfoy. It was a feeling like unlike any other. It was something that he had not felt since he had finished catching the remaining death eaters. It was the sensation that he was fighting something  _bad_ , something that was bad, had always been bad, and would always be  _bad._ Dark wizards these days weren't really  _dark._ Even the "evil" ones had no form of organization. It was as if by defeating Voldemort, he had eradicated all true evil from the world and only small fry were left behind.

But Draco Malfoy brought back all of those old feelings. How could Harry  _not_ revert to his Hogwarts self around him? How could he not treat him like the racist little-

"…a series of murders, the likes of which haven't been seen since Voldemor-"

"What?"

"There is a murderer, running around, Harry. He is killin-"

"Murders? A series? But, Wizards these days don't go that far. They are too afraid."

"Not anymore."

"But why? What's changed?"

"We don't know. That's your job to find out. But first, you will need to work with Draco Malfoy. The murder weapon has been a potion each time. Mr. Malfoy is the most knowledgeable in that area. He should be able to provide you with anything that you might need."

"You're telling me that you are giving me the biggest case there has been since before Voldemort fell,  _and_  that Draco Malfoy will be working for  _me?"_

"Yes."

"When do I start?"

* * *

Harry walked home that night, grinning from ear to ear. Who cared who had sucked him off or what stupid drunken things he had done? Tomorrow was a new day.

As Harry opened his front door, he immediately noticed that something was wrong. The air that came out was warmer than usual, and the smell was all wrong. He drew his wand and sneaked into his own home, ready to surprise any attacker. Yet what he actually came to find was a bushy haired brunette frowning as she stared at a small leather book in her left hand and nibbling on what looked like a freshly baked cookie in her right.

That explained the smell. Harry also saw that the fire was lit. That explained the warmth.

"'Mione! I see you are putting that key I gave you to good use."

"What is this?"

"Er…" Harry looked at the book, or rather the  _journal_  that Hermione was holding up to him. It was opened to the very last entry which he had written that very morning. "THATis none of your business."

Harry snatched the journal away, stuffing it clumsily in his back pocket.

"Oh, please. You've never had a problem with me reading it before." Hermione pursed her lips.

"Well now I do!"

"Harry!"

"I know! I was reckless. I know. I won't do it again, I promise."

"Did you see The Prophet?"

"Can you keep a line of conversation at all tonight?"

"Well, did you?"

Harry kicked off his shoes and sank into the sofa in front of his close friend, or rather, his sister as he had grown to think of her.

"No. Let me guess, I was caught snogging with the muggle and now the whole Wizarding World knows that I like my to have my dick sucked by blokes."

Hermione didn't even react.

"There is a picture of you punching Draco Malfoy. Harry, you look downright  _evil._ You almost look like those criminals you have devoted your life to stopping."

"Oh." A shiver ran down Harry's back. It wasn't the thrilling shiver of the previous night, but rather a cold, dagger-like feeling. "Can I see it?"

" _Harry!_ You had sexual relations with a man!"

"What?"

"Are you gay? Oh, nevermind. Don't answer that. It's a stupid question. Sexuality is fluid and all that, but really Harry ARE YOU GAY? I mean I accept you no matter what and I hope you know that nomatter whayou decidetodoorWHOyoudecidetodo thatIwillloveyounotmatterwha -"

"'Mione!" Hermione's speech had gotten faster and faster with each passing word and her face redder and redder. Harry was afraid that she might have an episode. "Calm down."

"I just… I saw this picture in the paper and I was so worried that you might have been going through something terrible last night, because this isn't  _like_  you! You usually know someone has done something illegal before you attack, and even then it is with a smile on your face. But this picture…" Hermione reached into her purse that was placed at her feet, grabbed the morning edition of The Prophet and threw it Harry's way. "You look scary..."

Harry grabbed the paper and noticed right away what Hermione meant. He saw fear and pain in Draco's eyes and only evil in his own.

"That's not all, Harry! Then I come here and I see this journal on your table, so I know you have written in it and when I open it, it's mostly filled with notes to buy cereal from the past week, but the latest entry… Harry.."

"I don't, Hermione. I feel guilty."

"About the mugg-"

"About Draco. I don't even know what happened with the muggle. He was just at the right place at the right time I suppose." Harry gave a half hearted grin. "Actually, I feel guilty about him too as you already read… But today I found out I get to tell Draco what to do and I got excited! After everything that git has don-"

"It's been five years, Harry. Let it go."

"But he-"

"Let it go."

"He almost killed Dumbledore!"

"What you told me was that he couldn't kill him. It's probably because he is good. And he saved you at his house, remember? He was a child, Harry."

"So was I! But I picked the right side! I knew what was evil!"

"You were born into your side just as he was born into his."

"The sorting ha-"

"Harry. You were  _born_ into your side. Everything from the abuse you suffered as a child, to meeting Hagrid, to meeting Ron, everything led you to the 'good' side. Draco's family gave him everything, brought him up with faulty morals, an-"

Harry growled.

"I don't want to hear it. I have to sleep. I work early tomorrow."

"Fine." Hermione picked up her purse and stood. "I really hope you're gay though."

"What?"

"It would explain why I've failed to set you up all these years. At least that way Ron can't continue making fun of me for being such a horrid matchmaker as he says." Hermione smiled. "Be nice to the ferret."

Harry chuckled.

"Only for you."

"No. For  _you."_

He hugged his old friend and she quickly left, leaving behind an oven full of cookies.

Harry pointed his wand at The Prophet, causing the picture of him to disappear from the page. He then opened his journal and pointed again. The photograph appeared as clearly as it had in The Prophet.

Below it he wrote, "Is this what you are? If so, be careful, Potter."


	6. A Wonderful First Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Draco finally meet up. It's not a very nice encounter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, we promise Harry will get nicer. Right now he's biased, stressed, stubborn, and confused. But he will evolve! Enjoy, lovelies! <3

In the file Draco had been given were some notes on what kind of potion the killer was making, what ingredients were suspected to be used, visual characteristics of the residues left by the potion and drops of the potion itself, things like that. Draco disregarded the suspected ingredients list – Ministry potions "experts" were rubbish at anything more complicated than Bobble Juice, and Draco would have to request a sample of the potion for his own analysis. The potion was described as being rose-coloured at all times, sometimes slightly more viscous, sometimes slightly less so. Draco took his own notes on the notes, guessing that the killer was using a slightly different recipe each time to make a potion with the same effect. This would be the part Draco enjoyed – unraveling the ingredients that remained consistent, figuring out what gave the potion the consistently rosy colour and potency. There were also some notes on the effects the potions had on the victims, and Draco noted those as well. There were only a few deadly poisonous ingredients that could be safely and consistently used, and Draco's shop only sold two of them, because those two could be combined with other ingredients to make a rather innocuous brew. The rest were strictly poisonous and strictly off the market – though the blond proprietor knew where one might look to find some. When he had finished reading the notes, Draco penned a request for samples to the Ministry and went to bed, making a note to rise early so as to be thoroughly prepared for the arrival of the latest scourge to befall him.

When morning came, Draco felt inexplicably energized, enough so that he pulled his hair into a French braid instead of a sleek ponytail. He dressed in a light green button-down shirt, grey slacks, and black shoes, all rather on purpose. He had received a reply from the Ministry during the time he'd been asleep, and opened it.

_Mr. Malfoy – We would be happy to provide whatever you need to assist Aurors Potter and Weasley in the investigation. However, our sending the samples to you will be delayed by the unfortunately laborious process of clearing the samples for delivery. They will be sent with Aurors Potter and Weasley in two days' time. We greatly appreciate your assistance. – Bilius Hacksby_

The succinct reply did not surprise Draco at all, but it did frustrate him – quite a lot could be done in two days' time, but not much could be done without proper analysis of the ingredients in the samples. He supposed that, for the time being, he could use the Ministry's analysis, at least until he could get his own. He brought the file with him down to the shop, feeling even more energized as he entered the space. He started reading more closely the details of the effects of the potions on the victims, noting all things that were common to all. His list told him a great deal more than he wanted to know: The effects were not only mostly consistent, they were consistent to ingredients sold in Draco's shop, and to both of the deadly ingredients he sold. There were alternative sources for all of the ingredients the effects were consistent with, of course, but it was alarming nonetheless. He had just tucked his notes underneath the counter when there was a sharp rap at the door. Draco checked his watch – just under an hour till opening – and smirked slightly. The Aurors were late.

"Good morning, gentlemen," the blond greeted as he opened the door to admit Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, both standing outside his shop in their uniforms. "Do come inside." He stood aside with a dramatic sweep of his arm, noting the barely-concealed glares each Auror shot him as they entered the shop. Draco closed the door behind him, and was almost immediately confronted with the too-harsh sound of Harry Potter's voice.

"Listen, Malfoy, this is how it's going to work," the brunette practically snapped, nearly knocking over a display in his haste to order the blond about. "You are going to-"

"I am going to give you a list of ingredients I suspect the killer to be buying from my shop, and then you, sir, are going to mind the till, watching for anyone buying any of those ingredients. Certain of those ingredients are deadly, and therefore kept under lock and key, to be distributed only by myself." The tone of Draco's voice was as polite as he could make it, but being ordered about in his sanctuary would not be tolerated, and he could not have the two mucking up his business. "If you prefer not to use my first name, I must ask that you address me as Mr. Malfoy, and I shall afford you the same courtesy of calling you Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley."

"I will call you whatever I want,  _Malfoy_ ," Harry hissed. Ron simply folded his arms over his chest, as if to intimidate the proprietor of the potions shop. "You will call us Auror Potter and Auror Weasley – any less would be disrespectful, and you wouldn't want to do  _that_ , now would you? We are here to save lives, not tend the till, and  _we_  will give the orders around here."

"I respectfully disagree, Auror Potter," Draco replied, grudgingly using the title. "While it would be disrespectful towards your profession, calling you by your title would alert the killer that he was being watched by Aurors, therefore preventing him or her from buying any suspicious ingredients. It would make him or her wary, and therefore less likely to slip up. During business hours, Auror Potter, you shall be Mr. Halton, and Auror Weasley, you shall be Mr. Baxton, to keep secret the fact that you are Aurors. However, before the shop opens and after it closes, you shall remain Auror Potter and Auror Weasley. And you will mind the till, Aurors, because if you do not, you will not know exactly what each customer buys, and therefore cannot be properly alerted were someone to buy a suspicious number of the ingredients on the list. If I were to mind the till, I should have to leave periodically to inform the two of you as to a certain customer's purchases, which would, in itself, look suspicious. I have requested samples of the various droplets of potion and residues found at the crime scenes, and once they are delivered to me, I will perform my own conclusive analysis for a more concrete list of ingredients to be watched."

"There's nothing respectful about you,  _Malfoy_ ," Ron grunted. Draco forced himself to remain calm. Already, he felt the energy he'd had when he awoke draining, and it wasn't even half an hour till opening yet. The day was going to be long, indeed. "And besides, we can't run the till. We don't know anything of your pricing or how it works or nothing." At this, Draco smirked, and went around to the back of the counter. He pulled out an ominously large-looking tome and placed it in the middle of the counter.

"I wrote this up when I first opened the shop and stocked everything," the blond replied, stroking the cover almost covetously. "Inside, you will find pricing information for every item in the store, from the fairy dust to the belladonna. It's all in here, even how to work the till. I'll even help on the till during the usual rush. I'll mostly be answering questions customers have and getting them the ingredients they need to purchase from the locked stores. Should someone request a locked ingredient – also noted in here – let me know at once. Now, it's forty-five minutes till opening. Get studying."

If the look on Harry's face was anything to judge by, Draco's torture hadn't yet begun, and would be even more miserable than his sixth year at Hogwarts. It was probably a mistake for Draco to goad the brunette, but he didn't want his sanctuary invaded by Aurors, especially not these two Aurors. He would have to be more careful about being snippy to them. When Draco officially opened the shop for the day, Harry and Ron, having cast glamours over themselves so as not to be recognized, were still studying, so he minded the till until they were finished. Once they were done, he handed them the list of ingredients to watch out for, and left them to mind the till.

"Mr. Malfoy, this item isn't in the registry," Harry called, about half a second after Draco had stepped away from the counter. The blond closed his eyes and, without turning around, asked what item it was. "I think it's a bezoar."

"Page twenty-three, second column, about halfway down the page," Draco replied calmly, continuing on his way away from the counter.

"Wait, this one's not there, either," Ron called, scratching at his glamour-beard, and Draco could hear the smugness in his voice.

"Yes, it is, Mr. Baxton, just take the time to look," the blond replied, resisting the urge to smack both Aurors upside the head. Violently. With a cactus. He had plenty, as many cacti were used in certain potions. There were a couple on the list of watched ingredients, even. The rest of the day went similarly, with Harry and Ron doing their best to goad Draco into some loss of composure and Draco throwing each attempt right back in their faces. He even managed to avoid even going near the cacti for most of the day. His mind managed to wander, as well, to what could give the potions the consistently rosy colour. The only ingredients to produce such a colour that he sold in his shop would never produce such a consistent colour, and required certain other ingredients with them – none of either type were on the watched ingredients list, which left what he didn't sell in his shop. Outside ingredients that he could think of were all flower parts, the most likely of which being some part of a rose, possibly the petals or hips. He would know for sure once he could analyze the samples himself. By the end of the day, he was a little ruffled, but he had to be polite to the Aurors, at least.

"Nothing today," he overheard Harry saying to Ron. Draco turned and saw the redhead shrug as the brunette's scar began to reappear and his eyes began to turn from brown back to green.

"We'll get something eventually, mate, just have to keep at it," Ron replied. Neither had noticed that Draco was watching and listening, and the redhead was changing, too – his beard was disappearing, and his hair was lightening from the glamour-auburn to his regular carrottop.

"How can he be so nice all the time? It's not like him," Harry growled, clenching his fist. Ron put a hand on his shoulder to calm him.

"Maybe he really has changed, mate," Ron replied. "I don't like him either way, but…maybe we shouldn't be so hard on him."

"He was a Death Eater! He's got the Dark Mark and everything!" Harry hissed, and Draco hid behind a display, a hand to his forearm, where the faded Mark still writhed. "He tried to kill Dumbledore! He poisoned you!"

"I know, mate, I know! I'm just saying, maybe we should talk to Hermione about it," the redhead suggested, and Draco heard Harry start to storm off.

"She'll say I'm wrong about him, but I know what he is," Draco heard Harry growl. "He's bad. Always was, always will be." The brunette paused for a moment, took a breath, and let it out in a sigh. "Malfoy? We're leaving for the day."

"Sorry, I was just checking how much I need to restock some shelves," Draco called from behind the display, stepping out a moment later. "Is there anything I can do for you for tomorrow?" Harry shook his head and headed for the door. Ron followed soon after.

"We'll be back tomorrow, an hour before opening," Harry said, slamming the door behind himself as he left. Draco tried his best not to flinch at the sound, and went over and locked the door. He sighed and leaned back on a table to try to process what he had heard, and in the process, managed to lower his arse directly onto the spines of a cactus.


	7. The Nice Git

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silliness. It's a fun chapter, so enjoy. <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had fun making this little chapter.
> 
> A little insight into Harry and Draco (feel free to skip this): Draco was on the losing side of the war, and as a result has had to change a lot of the ideals he was raised with. This, coupled with the hate he received by the Wizarding World, served to teach him humility. Though he is a prideful man, he also understands that his old, pompous attitude won't get him far in life. He is sorry about his past actions and he seeks redemption. On the other hand, there is Harry. He has been the golden boy since the war ended. Everyone loves him without really knowing him. He can do no wrong in the eye's of the public. This has made him lose a bit of the humility he used to have. He's no longer "just Harry." He's a savior. It's not that he has let this go to his head, but his current position has stopped him from achieving personal growth. However, when faced with a KIND Draco and a few confusing feelings, our Harry might just have that paradigm shift that I wish for so badly.
> 
> Enjoy the silliness.

The door slammed behind Harry as he grabbed the closest object and flung it at the wall. What had once been a vase shattered with a satisfying clamour.

"ACCIO JOURNAL!"

Harry's journal flew rapidly through the air, fueled by his raging emotions. The small book hit him in the face before he even had a chance to catch it. Swearing, Harry picked up the journal and wrote a small entry.

_Draco Malfoy isn't being a git._ _He must be up to something._

He then scowled and wrote again.

_Buy orange juice._

The brunette undressed to shower, but when he stepped in, he was reminded of the muggle who he had told his name was Neville. This memory only served to agitate Harry more and he decided to go straight to bed.

Sleeping turned out to be an impossibility. There was no tossing and turning, but there was lying face up and glaring into the darkness without making a sound. Yet inside his mind, Harry was drowning in a storm of his own emotions. His thoughts were grains of sand, trapped in haboob of misery and torment raging inside of him. The storm within himself was of his own making bu- No. Not of his  _own_  making. Of  _Draco Malfoy's_ making. Who did that little ferret think he was, going about acting as if nothing had happened in their past? Acting as if he had done nothing  _wrong._  Had Harry not spent countless hours obsessing over Malfoy's misdeeds? Looking on his map to see where Draco might be, where he disappeared off to,  _WHY_ he was in the girls' bathroom? Did that man not see the mark on his left arm every morning before he got dressed? How could he be so civil after everything? It almost made Harry's past not even matter. It was almost as if his days and months spent agonizing over Malfoy's next move at Hogwarts were pointless!

How could that man be  _good?_

Taking a swig of a sleeping potion that he kept handy on his bedside table for these particular moments, Harry rolled over and fell asleep instantly.

* * *

"HARRY! WAKE UP!"

"Whu? I… Go away…" Harry slipped his arm around a man's neck, inching closer to his lips. He was so close… Freezing water poured onto Harry's face, waking him from his dream as quickly as he had fallen asleep. He jumped out of bed and yelled, "STUPEFY!" before tripping over his discarded clothing from the previous day and crashing to the floor, only to cut himself on the remnants of the vase he had destroyed.

"Bloody hell, mate. You're a mess."

Harry groaned. He was naked, sweating and bleeding, his hair in more disarray than that of usual, and dry drool cracked as he stretch his jaw.

"Ugh. Help me u- Thanks. Merlin, I thought I was under attack or something."

"Do you mind putting on trousers?"

"Wha- oh. Yeah. Fuck. I don't have any clean clothes."

"Just get what's on the floor and let's go! I want to get there before the shop opens."

Harry threw on the clothing he had tripped over, grabbed his wand, his glasses, and bounded out with Ron in tow.

When they reached the shop, they were luckily only five minutes later than they had agreed to be there, but Harry still looked horrible. Though he had wiped the drool from his face on the way over, his hair was an unruly mess and his wrinkled t-shirt, which was spotted with blood on the back from the cuts he had suffered due to the vase, gave him the air of exactly what he could  _not_  look like. He looked like an undercover Auror who had just come from a battle.

Draco Malfoy opened the shop door and gave Harry a once over before politely offering the brunette an extra shirt.

"What's wrong with my shirt, Malfoy?" said Harry with a hint of venom on his tongue.

"Yesterday, nothing at all. Today it is wrinkled and is splattered with blood. I'm sorry if this is inconvenient for you, but I do not allow my employees-" Harry growled. "Sorry. My…  _partners_  to walk around my shop with blood on their clothing. It's bad for business."

Unable to counter this, Harry nodded begrudgingly and followed Draco into a bathroom. The blond left and then quickly returned with a wrinkle free, blood free, crisp, clean,  _green_  polo.  _Slytherin green_.

Harry clenched his left hand into a fist as he snatched the polo and tossed it into the sink. He removed his shirt, shoving it at Draco, and then made a move for the polo.

"Excuse me, Auror Potter. I think you should clean your wounds and… remove that small bit of glass before dressing in the clean shirt."

"What?"

"You are bleeding. Were you attacked this mor-"

"Does this look like it's any of your business?" Draco pursed his lips but made no reply. He did, however, wave his wand, causing Harry's wounds to close, and the blood and glass to vanish. This only served to agitate Harry further. It meant that he had to  _thank_  Malfoy. "Thanks, git." Harry pulled on the clean shirt and stomped to the till where Ron was perusing the ridiculously large book of items. Where did Malfoy get off making such a stupidly big thing anyway? If he knew anything about anything, he would get a laptop and put everything on  _there_.

"Hate muggles so much that you can't stand to have a computer, Malfoy?"

Draco Malfoy almost looked sincerely shocked.

"I don't follow…"

"Hey, Ron." Harry nudged his friend. "Isn't Malfoy a complete twit for making this stupid book? If he wasn't such a muggle hater, then maybe he'd learn to use a laptop." There was silence from Ron. "Right?" Harry turned to look at his best friend whose ears had turned a bright shade of pink. The man was trying to act as if he had been too absorbed in the book to have heard a thing. Harry looked back to the Slytherin and caught him turning away with what might have been a slight smirk on his face.

Or perhaps it was just Harry's imagination…

"I simply do not know how to use a computer, Mr. Potter. I apologize for any displeasure that that may cause you," said Draco as he stretch up to place a rather expensive looking item on a high shelf.

Rolling his eyes, Harry sat down next to Ron and leaned back, waiting for the time to pass before the shop opened. He let his gaze wander around, looking at all the strange objects. There was a particular jar which he quickly became fond of. It contained nothing but slowly twirling lights of all colors. They almost looked like fireworks trapped in a slow motion loop.

There was something  _else_ , however, which Harry was even more interested in. Every now and then Draco Malfoy would bend over to pick up a box or to straighten out an item. Each time, his arse would be displayed for Harry's pleasure. Harry enjoyed it so much, in fact, that he hadn't even noticed what he was doing, or whose arse was causing him to salivate.

"Auror Potter," said Draco as he bent down to pick up a sheet of paper he had dropped. "Would you unlock the door? The shop opens in three minutes."

"Of course," said Harry pleasantly, standing up without removing his eyes from Draco's pert litt-  _What?_

Draco seemed to freeze momentarily before standing up to turn toward Harry. The blond wore a slightly dumbfounded look.

"Well… Thank you."

Harry rushed to the door, unlocked it, and rushed back to his chair next to Ron, all the while swearing to himself. Fucking Malfoy and his fucking arse and his fucking fuck.

"Also, Mr. Potter, could yo-"

"Do it yourself, Malfoy! You have legs, don't you?!"

Ron coughed uncomfortably and Draco simply turned away.

It was going to be a long day.

* * *

"Nothing again, mate."

"Well, we'll see. Something is bound to happen eventually." Harry yawned and stretched, slipping out of his Slytherin green polo as he did so. He set in on the counter and was about to call Malfoy to ask for his own shirt, but the jar of lights caught his eye and he went to look at it a bit more closely. He leaned in, his nose and inch away from the glass containing what Harry now believed to be a small aurora. Where had the fireworks gone?

A thud sounded and both Aurors pulled out their wands, pointing at the shop window right next to Harry. A group of girls had gathered and pushed so close to the window that one of the group and actually fallen against it. Harry lowered his wand and smiled self consciously as he ran a nervous hand through his hair. This seemed only to agitate the girls further. Blushing, the Auror retreated back to the till where a now furious looking Malfoy stood.

Draco Malfoy grabbed Harry and pulled him back to the bathroom door, displaying an aggression that Harry had not seen from the man in years.

"I will not tolerate your abuse in front of my customers again, tomorrow,  _Potter!_ Your attitude today during store hours was unforgivable! And I certainly will not tolerate you…  _undressing_  anywhere but the bathroom! There are  _windows,_ Potter! If you can't manage to be professional then don't bother to show up at all!"

"Well if you weren't such a-"

"Tell me at what point I acted in any way that truly offended you today? When did I treat you with anything but kindness and respect? This is  _my_  shop.  _MINE."_ Draco breathed heavily as Harry tried to think of an instance where Draco had acted inappropriately, but he could not come up with anything at all. "Now... If you don't mind, please step in and you will find the shirt you handed me this morning."

The blond then looked away, but pointed through the door toward the sink.

"Is my 'rudeness' so disgusting that you can't look at me?"

"Please go inside."

Harry scowled, but did as he was told. He threw the door behind him only to find his shirt from that morning smelling clean. It was devoid of any imperfection. He sank to the floor where he sat for a long while, confused as to how Draco Malfoy,  _of all people_ , could be so damn  _nice_. In fact, he stayed in the bathroom for so long that Ron came looking for him.

"Harry, mate. I've got to get home. 'Mione wanted to have dinner out tonight."

Harry stood and looked in the mirror, turning to try and see his own backside.

"I'll be right out!"

It was decent enough, but as much as it pained Harry to admit, it was not up to par with what he had spent all day trying not to ogle.


	8. Aprehension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron and Draco have a conversation.

"Please go inside." He couldn't look any longer; he didn't want to start to think of the brunette that way. Even just his bare back was tantalizing, tempting, and the front…he could understand why those girls went crazy. As soon as he heard the door shut, Draco Malfoy almost regretted not taking the opportunity to drink in as much of Harry James Potter's beautiful body as he could without offending the man. The last thing he needed was to be fantasizing over one of the Aurors working in his shop. When Ronald Weasley came up the stairs, looking for Harry, Draco just pointed him to the bathroom and sat down on the couch, wondering what he was going to do about this problem. There would probably be some kind of media on it despite the fact that it was after the store had closed, and he wouldn't be surprised if there was media coverage of the fact that what appeared to be an employee in Draco's shop had been so openly rude to him and Draco had done nothing about it. They would portray him as weak, self-deprecating, and any of a slew of other things.

"Well, we're off, Mr. Malfoy," Ron said, and Draco looked up and nodded. "We'll try to be on time tomorrow." Draco nodded again.

"I am expecting samples from the ministry starting tomorrow, and I was told the two of you would be bringing them," Draco said, not getting up from the couch. "I just wanted to warn you in case you receive word to head to the ministry tonight or tomorrow morning." Ron nodded.

"We'll look out for it," the redhead assured the blond, and the two Aurors left.

The next morning, Ron handed Draco a package, explaining that it contained the samples he'd asked for, or so Bilius Hacksby had said. Draco nodded, and instructed Ron to open the store if he was not back in time. The blond went into a back room of the store, a sort of workstation of sorts, and started in on the samples – each one tiny indeed – trying to crack the code of what each one was made of. His work took several hours, well beyond opening time, and he kept obsessively organized lists of the ingredients used in each one and noting how they changed. When he was finished, he took another hour noting which ingredients were likely to be changed from the most recent potion, and all the alternatives he could think of that wouldn't throw off the effects of the potion. It was only three hours till closing, but he brought out the new list of watched ingredients to the Aurors minding the till without explanation. He couldn't risk the killer hearing any conversation about it. After closing, he asked the Aurors to stay back for a moment.

"I spent most of today analyzing the samples and the patterns of which ingredients the killer changes," the blond said, speaking to both of the Aurors but addressing mostly Ron, seemingly the calmer of the two, if not the smarter. "The list I handed you is to be used, as opposed to the one the ministry gave me. Ministry potions masters are competent enough, but in a case as serious as this, I would feel safer using my own analysis. It's outside ministry guidelines, more accurate than what ministry potions masters use but far more complicated. Most of it is actually speculative. The changed ingredients – that's guesswork, as are the alternatives, but it's educated guesswork. I analyzed his patterns and such as well, maybe you could ask Miss Granger to take a look at my work as well. She has a knack for academics, as I recall, and the patterns are an academic endeavor." Ron nodded.

"I'll see if she can look at it," he said, and Draco took some pieces of parchment from his back pocket and handed them to the redhead.

"Thank you. She may notice something I didn't," he replied. "Thank you, Aurors, and I'm sorry for all the trouble. I'll see you both tomorrow morning." Ron simply nodded, and Harry let out a snort that Draco took as indication of all the brunette had kept to himself throughout the day. He supposed he was lucky none of it had boiled over. At least his request that the behavior stop during store hours hadn't fallen on deaf ears.

The rest of the week was rather uneventful, aside from a couple of incidents, the first involving a customer asking after the "attractive proprietor". Harry had made several snide remarks about Draco in response, enough that the customer left blushing quite hard and without buying a thing. She had appeared on the verge of embarrassed tears. Draco had kept his temper, which was a blessing. The second was a bit more explosive.

"Mr. Halton, could you please restock the display nearest the window?" Draco asked, quite politely. Harry snorted. "It just needs some asphodel, powdered roots, fresh roots, and seedlings." The brunette hopped off his stool behind the counter and went into the back, coming out with a box containing powdered root of asphodel. He started putting them on the shelf, and Draco sighed. "The powdered root goes on the third shelf, Mr. Halton, the seedlings go on the fourth."

"Then do it yourself, git! Obviously I'm rubbish at it!" the brunette yelled, obviously trying hard not to say more. Draco blinked to keep his composure intact and went over to the display, calmly correcting the error and bringing the excess back. He wound up finishing the restocking himself, not wanting to provoke the brunette any further. At the end of that day, Ron had approached him, looking embarrassed.

"I'm sorry for what happened today," the redhead said, his ears a rather impressive shade of scarlet. "I'll talk to him about it tonight. You're not so bad as I thought, but he just doesn't see it yet. He likes hating you, I think." Draco sighed, shaking his head.

"It's quite alright, Auror Weasley," the blond said. "I understand. Some people aren't willing to accept change, especially of such a drastic nature. You don't need to speak to him about it." It was Ron's turn to sigh.

"You can call me Ron, if you like, I don't mind." Draco, again, shook his head in response.

"I think that would only serve to incense Auror Potter further," the blond explained, turning to go up to his flat.

"Wait, Hermione finished looking at the patterns," Ron said hurriedly, pulling a sheaf of parchment from his back pocket. "She just wanted to go over it a lot, make sure she didn't miss anything." For the first time that day, Draco gave a genuine smile, even if it was small.

"Thank you, Auror Weasley," the blond said, taking the sheaf of parchment. "I always heard she did brilliant work – I'm excited to see how well I did in comparison."

In fact, he had done quite well in comparison, but of course, there were some things he'd missed, as he expected. At the end of the week, in the middle of shop hours, an owl flew in through the door and dropped a letter into Ron's hands, then left quite promptly. Draco nodded, and Ron went into the back room to read it. He came out, looking conflicted between relief and apprehension, if he was capable of apprehension.

"Since nothing's been happening, I'm to go on another assignment," the redhead announced at the end of the day. "I'm to stake out a flower shop, where the killer's supposed to get some of his wares. Said you'd know what to look out for there, Mr. Malfoy?" Darco nodded.

"Rose hips," the blond said, knowing why Ron would be apprehensive. It would mean that he and Harry would be alone together before, during, and slightly after shop hours. It was a risk, and they all knew it. "They're what gives the potions their colour. The killer will likely be buying fresh, full roses and cutting the hips off himself, rather than just hips, but watch for people just buying the hips as well, he might not be as clever as I'm giving him credit for right now." Ron nodded, and the Aurors left together. Draco caught a bit of their conversation as they left.

"Try not to bite his head off while I'm not there, alright, mate?" Ron asked, sounding worried. Harry snorted.

"I don't know why you seem to like him so much now," the brunette replied, and started to say something else, but Draco couldn't hear anymore. The door had closed behind them.

As he fixed his dinner and got ready for bed that night, all Draco could think about was the fact that Ron was worried enough to ask Harry to ease up, and what that could mean if the redhead wasn't around to keep an eye on things.


	9. Something in Common

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Draco spend their first day alone in the shop.

A small leather journal lay open on Harry Potter's kitchen counter. There was only one entry written on the pages that were displayed.

_First day alone._

A slender hand reached for the journal and deposited into a small, seemingly bottomless handbag.

Meanwhile, Harry Potter was walking through the door of The Sleeping Dragon. He had spent most of the night talking to Ron about whether or not he was just in acting so harshly toward Draco Malfoy and was dreading the day to come. As a result, the Auror had bags under his eyes and had shown up in random trousers and an old t-shirt under his wizard robes. Unaware of his appearance, Harry stood behind the till, occupying Ron's usual spot as he waited for the blond shop owner to either come down from upstairs, or to appear from the backroom.

Instead, Draco Malfoy entered through the very same door Harry had.

"Ah. Morning. I see you left yourself in. I'm glad, it's rather cold out." Harry nodded silently, not trusting himself to speak. He didn't  _want_ to be an arse…even if Draco Malfoy deserved it. He figured he should at least wait until the bastard said something rude first. "I went shopping," said Draco looking down at his shopping bags.

Harry cleared his throat.

"Yes. Did you… enjoy yourself?"

"Quite." Malfoy shifted uncomfortably. "I bought a new blend of tea. Would you like to try it before the shop opens? We still have an hour or so."

"Shouldn't we prepare everything?"

"It's fine. I set everything up last night."

"Oh. Alright." The blond disappeared and Harry's stomach churned. Harry couldn't just forget everything that the blond had done to him while in Hogwarts… "I will be civil, but I don't have to be nice."

"If you insist."

Harry turned to see Draco walking with a tea tray.

"You heard?"

"Was I not supposed to?"

Harry frowned.

"Thank you for the tea."

The two sat in silence, drinking their tea which even Harry had to admit was fantastic. Draco had impeccable taste. How infuriating…

"This is a peace offering."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Excuse me?"

"We shall be alone, and I'd rather not have any…disagreements."

"So you're bribing me with tea?" Harry snorted.

"Laugh if you must. It does not matter to me as long as you accept."

" _Accept_? Oh, Merlin. Did you poison this?!"

"What?!"

"Did you poison it or put a sleeping potion or veritaserum or something in this?!" Harry took out his wand and began going through every revealing spell he could think of, but the tea remained as innocent as ever. That didn't make  _sense._ Why would Malfoy offer him tea? "Oh, I get it. Hah. Hah. You went muggle on me, right? Are their laxatives in here? Hmm? Or did you visit the joke shop? Will I start vomiting in a few minutes?"

Draco looked truly horrified as Harry went on to list various joke items sold at WWW that were not detectable by any spell. Before Harry could finish the list though, Draco took a sip of the tea himself.

"We aren't in Hogwarts anymore, Auror Potter."

Harry pursed his lips.

"Alright. I accept your… _bribe_. I won't make rude comments  _if_ I'm not provoked."

"Seems reasonable enough." Draco sipped as he continued to stare at Harry. The brunette felt something foreign begin to stir inside him.

"…Git."

"Did you not  _just_ say tha-"

"Alright, alright! I had to get it out of my system." Harry did his best not to scowl and tried to think of something polite to do. After all, he had accused the other man of trying to poison him… "If you want, I could…er…take the cups up and clean them."

"No, that's quite alright. I will do it myself."

"Alright." They sipped their tea slowly and once they had both finished, Harry tried offering again. "I mean it. I can clean them. I'm really fi-"

"No. I will do it." The blond gathered everything hurriedly, causing Harry to glower. What, was he not  _good enough_  to step into the  _pureblood'_ s home? Was he not  _allowed_ upstairs?

"I'm trying to be nice,  _Mr. Malfoy._ "

"You said it yourself. Be civil, but not nice." Draco turned and hurried away, leaving Harry to stew angrily.

In moments, Draco Malfoy had returned.

"It's all taken care of."

"Great."

"I'm sorry, I-"

"No need to be nice,  _Malfoy."_

Draco slammed his hands on the giant item catalogue.

"Why do you hate me so much!"

"REALLY?" Harry laughed loudly. "Don't you remember Hogwarts?"

"That's not who I am anymore."

"Maybe not, but you are still a git!"

"You come into my shop, act as if you own it and everything inside of it and now you want to take over my flat as well?! But by all means, if washing my dishes is that important to you, go ahead!"

"Shove off."

"No. Let's go."

Draco began to walk away and motioned angrily for Harry to follow him.

"I'm not your bloody house elf, Malfoy."

The blond stomped over to the wall across from the till, grabbed the jar of light, and set it angrily on the counter in front of Harry while still taking care not to break anything.

"Stare at it and  _leave me alone."_

"Gladly. Just stop offering me tea!"

"I WAS BEING CIVIL!"

"YOU WERE BEING A HIPOCRITE! You don't actually like me, Malfoy, so stop pretending that you do. At least I'm honest!"

"Fine! You're right! I don't like you! You are an arrogant, stubborn, biased arse!"

Harry stepped out from behind the till and grabbed Draco by his collar. A thrill rose inside him as Draco's breath hitched and the blond grabbed Harry's arms to push away. Harry tugged slightly, and Draco countered with an aggressive shove, but the Auror was too strong and barely moved. The two stood, staring each other down, Harry's hands tangled in Draco's shirt, and Draco's hand's gripping Harry's forearms.

That's when Hermione Granger slipped Ron's borrowed key into the lock and opened the shop door.

Harry dropped his arms quickly and Draco took three steps back. The two men did their best to seem as natural as possible.

"I'm sorry. Am I interru-"

"No. Come on in, 'Mione." Harry moved back to his spot behind the till and stared at the jar of light dejectedly.

Hermione Granger stood in the shop, her bushy hair pinned back neatly. "Draco Malfoy! It's so good to see you again. Ron has told me so much about his time with you."

Draco seemed slightly uncomfortable. His eyes darted to Harry and back to her before he regained his composure and gave a slight bow.

"Miss Granger. Or rather, Mrs. Granger." Draco smiled politely. "Welcome to my shop. Thank you very much for your," the blond coughed, "kind words. Is there anything I can help you with today?" Draco moved to the door and turned the open/closed sign to show that the shop was now open for the day.

"Please, call me Hermione. I'm terribly sorry about our last encounter." Her eyes flashed at Harry. "It's obvious that some of us were rather on edge that day."

"Quite."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"I was rather impressed by your work on the case, Draco. It was very well done."

"Oh, you flatter me. You found at least three mistakes."

"Actually,  _only_  three. That means a lot. And please, call me Hermione." She smiled again and Draco nodded in silent thanks.

Then the three remained in painful silence until Hermione began to walk around the room, taking in the splendor of the shop. She seemed to be truly delighted by Draco's stock, the fine wooden shelves, and the intricate paintings between them.

Draco followed her around the shop, no doubt pleased every time the brightest which of their age would ooo or aahh over a new detail.

"Is this mermaid hair?! Draco, I've never seen a potion shop so well stocked!"

The blond smiled proudly.

As the two began to chat about the latest advancements in potion making, customers poured in, taking up all of Harry's time, but not his attention. He glanced again and again over to Draco. At first he was curious as to what the two may be speaking about, but soon his thoughts visited other places and his eyes started to wander. Draco Malfoy, who had once broken his nose and left him on the school train under an invisibility cloak… Draco Malfoy who had called one of his closest friend a mudblood on multiple occasions, who had made Harry's life miserable, who had let Death Eaters into Hogwarts… This same Draco Malfoy was now showing Hermione Granger around his potions shop. He had a successful shop despite the public's disapproval of him, he donated a fortune to the post war effort (even Harry, who did his best to avoid The Prophet, had found out about that), and he was even helping Harry to solve a case.

"Excuse me? Sir?"

"What?" Harry forced himself into the present and noticed a small, mousy haired man in front of him who was so short that he had to stand on his toes to see over the counter.

"I said," said that man irritably, "that I  _would like to buy these items."_

"Of course. Uh…" Harry looked over at Hermione and Malfoy who were huddled in the back wall whispering to each other. What in Merlin's beard were they talking about?

"SIR!" The mousy man squeaked loudly, causing a group of young girls, who were most likely only in the shop to see Harry, to giggle uncontrollably. Malfoy looked up, alarmed, and Harry quickly sold the items before any more attention was placed on him. The small man huffed and left the shop with his newly bought items.

Harry awkwardly returned to work, but he could feel the customers staring at him now. Good job, Harry. Way to be inconspicuous.

Other than that one incident, the day parseed without any issues. Harry spent it concentrating on his job (when he wasn't looking at Draco or trying to figure out what Hermione was up to) and keeping a look out for suspicious looking items or people. As usual, by the end of the day, nothing dangerous had been bought and no questionable people were spotted. No questionable people  _other than_  Hermione Granger. What was she up to? Why was she still there?

As Draco closed the shop for the day, Harry pointed his wand to the back room, causing a loud crashing noise. The blond jumped, his face turning white instantly, and then excused himself. He was no doubt panicking over the dangerous materials that might have been broken in the back and what horrid things could happen if certain potions were mixed. What he did not know was that Harry had used a simple charm to cause noise without breaking anything. Draco would surely check each individual item until he realized that nothing had been broken and by then Harry would have had plenty of time to question Hermione. He just had to find out exactly  _why_ the witch, who was usually working diligently, would spend her day poking around The Sleeping Dragon.

"'Mione!" whispered Harry. The witch continued looking through the shop as though she had not heard. Harry hissed and his friend reluctantly turned to face him. "Come here."

"What?"

"Shhh!" Harry checked to see if Malfoy had returned, but it looked like the noise had worked. He motioned for Hermione to join him.

"What?" she whispered this time, standing close to Harry.

"What are you doing here? You haven't bought anything and you've been looking at the same few shelves all day!"

Hermione picked up the jar of light in front of Harry, her eyes widening.

"Harry… Do you know what this ?"

"Don't change the subject!" hissed the Auror.

"But this is-"

Harry sighed loudly, his patience growing thin. It didn't take an Auror to figure out that the bushy haired woman was up to something. But being an Auror made Harry more suspicious than the average wizard. He looked at Hermione, trying to judge whether she was nervous or not.

"Why are you here?"

"Harry. You are doing that thing. You are trying to see if I'm nervous. Stop that!"

"Shhh! Why are you here?"

Hermione glanced back at the jar of light before looking at Harry and answering.

"I told you. I'm here for shopping."

"Liar. You have work today."

Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"And so do you. Yet when I walked in, you weren't working, but rather locked in a strange tension charged embrace with  _Draco Malfoy."_

Harry felt the blood rush to his face.

"What!? I… no. He was-"

"And then there's  _this."_ Hermione retrieved Harry's journal from her purse and tossed it on the counter.

"YOU WERE IN MY-"

"Shhhh!" Hermione gave Harry a crossed look. "I was  _told_  that you would probably show up late to work today so I went to wake you, but you were gone, and this was left sitting out on the table."

Harry groaned. He already knew who had told Hermione. Ron had most likely warned her and had sent her to babysit Harry on his first day with Draco.

"You two need to bloody well leave me  _alone._ " Harry tried to snatch the journal, but Hermione moved a step back before he could. She pursed her lips tightly before responding.

"At first I was just planning on coming for a few minutes to make sure you weren't being unbearable. From what Ron has told me, you haven't been very nice to Draco even though he seems to have proven that he has changed." Harry scoffed. "But once I saw  _this,"_ Hermione waved the journal, "I noticed that you have been writing more frequently in it and more about  _Draco Malfoy_. Yet you rarely used it before." She read aloud, "His polite attitude does not make sense. Blah blah. Why would he be so nice?" Hermione flipped a few pages. "He  _must_  be up to something." Hermione closed the book and pushed it to Harry who grabbed it hastily and shoved it into the back pocket of his trousers so that his friend would not be able to grab it again.

"I want my extra key back."

"Harry, I thought you were obsessing because he helped you relive your time at Hogwarts and I know how much you miss being back at school. I mean, Ron told me how rude you are to poor Dra-"

" _Poor_ Draco!?"

"But when I saw you and him today, when I walked in…you were embracing…"

"We were fighting!"

"And today you spent every second that wasn't devoted to spying on me, staring at Draco."

"I was just spying on him too!"

"Oh, please. You were undressing him with your eyes." Harry choked. "Honestly, Harry… It was almost  _lewd._  Though I suppose I only noticed because I know you so well… But to me it was rather intense. And Draco was too busy avoiding you to notice. Harry, you are obsessing beca-"

"I'm not obsessing!" Harry's angry whispers were growing in volume. "I am doing my job as an Auror. Sure, the bloke has a nice arse, but so what?"

"Oh, please. It's more than tha-"

"What?! LOVE? I don't love him! I barely know him!"

"Then why do you judge him so much if you barely know him!? And no, not love. But like, yes! Your attraction, your memories, your denial, your _prejudice_  are-"

"I JUST LIKE HIS ARSE!"

"Shhh!"

Harry froze. He looked toward the back room, but heard nothing. Thank Merlin.

"Look," Harry whispered. "Stay out of my life. I know that you care about me and that you want the best for me, but you need to stop all this, 'Mione. You and Ron have been hanging around me more and more lately. You come over unannounced, you read my journal, you have completely invaded my life. The Weasley's call me constantly. The Prophet never stops stalking my every move whenever I go out without a glamour. My life has been an impossibility since the war ended and I'm tired. I'm tired of the false love from strangers, the unwanted admiration, and the overbearing friends. I love you, 'Mione, but I can't take it anymore. Give me back my spare key and stay out of my personal life unless I willingly invite you into it."

Hermione's eyes shone brightly, as if they were dangerously close to being flooded by tears.

"We aren't just friends. We are family. I want what's best for you."

"You aren't my mother! She's dead. I can take care of myself."

The witch blinked rapidly and took a large breath.

"You obviously can't. You are constantly alone, you-"

"I'M NEVER ALONE!"

"YES YOU ARE! AND YOU ARE SO UNHAPP-"

"YOU DON'T KNOW EVERYTHING HERMIONE! YOU ARE SO FOCUSSED ON TRYING TO MAKE ME HAPPY THAT YOU DON'T REALIZE THAT THAT'S WHAT'S MAKING ME UNHAPPY! YOU ARE THE ONE THAT'S OBSESSED! NOT ME! HAVE A CHILD OR TWO! FOCUS ON SOMEONE ELSE'S LIFE FOR ONCE!"

"FINE! BE MISERABLE, HARRY POTTER! HAVE A HORRID LIFE AND DIE ALONE!" Hermione threw a few galleons on the counter to pay for the unicorn hairs she had placed in her purse earlier and stomped through the door, taking care to slam it behind her.

Harry growled angrily and grabbed the jar of light, holding it high in the air, ready to throw it, but all the jar did was calm him down. He placed it in front of him again and sighed. Ron was going to kill him for upsetting Hermione…

A cough came from the far wall and Harry flung his head up, wide eyed.

"Malfoy."

"That was…" Draco didn't seem to know how to continue his phrase and simply stopped mid sentence.

"How much uhm…" Harry coughed. "How much did you hear."

"Just the last part." Draco crossed the room and stopped where Hermione had just been standing. As he spoke, he stared at the now brilliant blue jar of light. "It doesn't seem like she quite understands you. It's shocking. She is so intelligent."

"I've always been Harry Potter: The Boy Who Lived." Harry didn't know why he was sharing his feelings with Draco Malfoy, but at least the blond would listen without the lenses of an admirer or an overprotective friend. "I didn't even know it. I was nobody in the muggle world and then suddenly I forever become a savior. And since the war ended, it's just been worse. I'm constantly followed by people. She wants me not to be alone?" Harry scoffed

Draco raised his eyes and grey met green in a solemn glance.

"I know what it is like to be treated a certain way for something you did in your past." Harry frowned. The implications of this conversation began to dawn on him as Draco continued. "It's funny, really. I've changed my life completely and people hate me. Yet you shout at your friends and publicly hit other Wizards, but people still love you. We are both victims of our past, but in such different ways... Perhaps you would be happier as Draco Malfoy?"

Did this conversation mean that Harry and Draco were becoming friends? Should Harry have just kept his mouth shut? Now he couldn't help but begin to see Draco as a human being. Bloody fucking hell… Why had he said anything? The blond's eyes were blazing as he stared at Harry, waiting for an answer.

Oh, Merlin. He hadn't answered. Had he parseed the point where it wouldn't be awkward to say something? Was it awkward now?

"Er… Right. Well, thanks for talking. Uhm…" Draco smiled.

"Who knew I would have something in common with the savior of the Wizarding World?" Draco leaned toward Harry, his hands travelling straight for the Auror's. Oh, lord. Was this happening? A nice arse was one thing, but Harry couldn't hold Draco's hand. He hadn't been lying to Hermione. He didn't like Draco. Though he supposed the blond was right. They  _did_ have something in common. Why hadn't he seen it before? Harry left his hand still on the counter; bravely ready to face whatever may happen next. Draco's hand glided towards his, and then landed on the large book of items next to it. "I bought a few items this morning. I need to add them to the book. Feel free to leave. I'll clean up myself."

Draco picked up the book and headed up the stairs toward his flat, leaving Harry to see himself out.

_Bloody fucking hell._


	10. Mermaid Hair

"Really?! There's a love potion more powerful than Amortentia?" The mixture of shock at this surprising information and pure glee in the presence of new information on Hermione's face made Draco smile involuntarily. She certainly was the brightest witch of their age, and it was wonderful to talk to someone who reveled in this knowledge as much as he did. He nodded proudly.

"Technically, it's just a more powerful version of Amortentia, but the difference lies in the ingredients," he said, glancing at the jar of light on the counter, the one that Harry was so fond of. "The changed ingredients are very rare and expensive, so it's not a very common recipe to see in potions books, but it has been tested extensively and provides an effect much closer to real love than even Amortentia. In fact, this version's effects can lead to real love, given the right encouragement. I've always wanted to make it myself, but I've never had a reason to have it. I wouldn't want it slipping into the wrong hands, but I wouldn't want it sitting around, either." Hermione nodded her agreement, moving along to the next shelf, gleefully perusing its contents, gasping occasionally in delight.

"Unicorn hair, too! Merlin, Draco, and dragon heartstrings!" the bushy-haired witch exclaimed, trying desperately to control the giddy grin that had stretched itself from ear to ear. "Oh, but I agree completely. Such a powerful love potion in the hands of the wrong person could bring down the entire Ministry! And fairy wings! Merlin!" Draco smiled a little more as the usually-focused witch became so easily distracted by the stock in the Sleeping Dragon. It didn't escape his notice that she grabbed a few unicorn hairs, but he knew her to be honest, and assumed that she would pay when she left the shop. It was at that point that the mousy little man caught the entire shop's attention in attempting to catch Harry's, and Draco's smile disappeared as he looked over to Harry, wondering what on earth the bloody Auror was doing now. After a few moments, he shook his head and turned back to his conversation with Hermione, who had an eyebrow raised at the blond.

"I should probably be paying closer attention to what he's doing," he said, sighing in frustration. He hadn't let it get to him much thus far, but it was frustrating having the Auror in his shop, his sanctuary, his haven, and though he was getting more used to the brunette's presence, and more grateful for the help, he was certainly not ready to have him there permanently. Hermione's expression softened, and she put a hand on Draco's arm.

"Don't worry, he's just frustrated that I'm here when I should by all rights be in the Ministry, working hard," she said, smiling apologetically. "He's probably going to try to get you out of the room to interrogate me at some point, so if anything should happen, don't worry, it's just Harry being paranoid for no good reason. Are those asphodel saplings?!" If Draco hadn't been listening to her making similar jumps the entire morning, Draco would have been startled by her sudden focus shift onto the young plants a couple of shelves down. As it was, however, he patiently followed her to the display, remembering how it had nearly caused a fight with Harry. "And whole roots, not just powdered! You really do have an amazing selection, Draco. I'm thoroughly impressed with you, and I'm really glad it's you helping the Ministry on this case." Draco felt a blush creep onto his cheeks as he smiled, feeling very undeserving of Hermione's praise. He wasn't about to argue with her, though, because she was smart enough to convince him that he wasn't actually named Draco, let alone convince him he was worthy of her praise.

They continued throughout the shop in a similar manner, even stopping to survey the cactus display. The one Draco had accidentally sat upon was still there, and the blond gave it a subconscious glare, feeling a phantom sensation of its spines in his arse. Hermione noticed the look Draco gave the cactus, but decided not to comment on it. They spent the day similarly, discussing new advancements and variations on old potions recipes, until it came time to close the shop for the day. When the crash sounded from the back room, Draco forgot Hermione's earlier warning and panicked, rushing to the back room to make sure nothing had been broken. When he saw nothing obviously broken, he did a slightly more thorough search, halfway through which he recalled Hermione's warning and sighed, silently berating himself for having forgotten. He went back to the door to go back out into the shop, and paused when he heard Harry and Hermione talking to each other in hushed voices.

"Why are you here?" Harry hissed.

"Harry. You are doing that thing. You are trying to see if I'm nervous. Stop that!" Hermione chided, and Draco smirked slightly, keeping silent behind the door. He kept himself indifferent until he heard the phrase "tension-charged embrace", at which point he choked on air, keeping himself as silent as he could as he dragged air into his lungs again. What they said next made little sense to Draco, though he supposed it would help if he could see what was going on. Looking would involve revealing he could hear, so he stayed behind the door. When Hermione said something about writing in whatever it was, Draco guessed that it was a journal of some sort, or a notebook, and he puzzled over why Harry Potter would have a journal until Hermione said, plainly, that Harry hadn't merely been spying, but had been undressing him with those green eyes…Draco's face flushed a bright scarlet and he covered his mouth firmly with his hand to keep himself from making any kind of obscene, indignant noise. When Harry screamed aloud about Draco's arse, the blond had to cover the first hand with the other hand to further stifle and muffle any noise he made. He didn't want to be noticed spying on this conversation. He took a few deep, even breaths through his nose, calming himself to the point where he was confident he could keep quiet without the aid of his hands, letting them drop, one to the door handle, the other to the body of the door, waiting for a good moment to open it. When the consistent screaming started, he opened the door and stepped out, a look of concern plastered across his face, as if he had heard the screaming and come out to investigate. When Harry put the jar of lights back down, the blond coughed to make his presence known.

"Malfoy." Draco thought Harry looked almost ashamed of being caught, but the calm of the lights masked most of it.

"That was…" the blond started, and paused to try to find the right words. He couldn't come up with words that would sound like he hadn't been listening but aptly described what it had sounded like behind that door.

"How much uhm…" Harry started, coughed, and tried again. "How much did you hear." It wasn't a question, but an order to respond.

"Just the last part," Draco replied, the look of concerned still on his face. He made his way to the point Hermione had been recently occupying, wondering whether or not that would seem threatening. It probably wouldn't. "It doesn't seem like she quite understands you. It's shocking. She is so intelligent." The words came out of his mouth. He hadn't intended to phrase it quite like that, but the words were already out.

"I've always been Harry Potter: The Boy Who Lived. I didn't even know it. I was nobody in the muggle world and then suddenly I forever become a savior. And since the war ended, it's just been worse. I'm constantly followed by people. She wants me not to be alone?" The brunette scoffed, and Draco gave a tiny, almost imperceptible smile, and met Harry's green eyes with his own grey ones.

"I know what it is like to be treated a certain way for something you did in your past," he started, knowing this must be disconcerting for Harry, to relate to one such as Draco. "It's funny, really. I've changed my life completely and people hate me. Yet you shout at your friends and publicly hit other Wizards, but people still love you. We are both victims of our past, but in such different ways... Perhaps you would be happier as Draco Malfoy?" There was a long pause, during which Draco assumed Harry was contemplating the question, rather than the conversation as a whole.

"Er… Right. Well, thanks for talking. Uhm…" This eventual answer seemed like a startled gush, as if Harry had realized how long the pause had been and wanted simply to spit something out, rather than let the silence continue to hang.

"Who knew I would have something in common with the savior of the Wizarding World?" Draco mused aloud as he leaned towards the counter and started to reach towards the book of prices, sitting next to Harry's hand. He could see thoughts racing across the Auror's face, and when he grabbed the book, he felt the need to explain. "I bought a few items this morning. I need to add them to the book. Feel free to leave. I'll clean up myself." He nodded a farewell to the brunette and went upstairs to his flat, trusting the Auror to see himself out and lock the door behind himself. As he penned in the new items and their prices, Draco refused to let himself think about what he heard. He was more likely to make a mistake if he let himself think too much. When he was finished, he brought the tome back down to the shop, halfway relieved to see that Harry was gone already. He glanced at the jar of lights on the counter, thinking of how much Harry seemed to like it. Given what he had heard earlier that day, it might do both of them some good for Harry to have it. It might quell some of the man's hostility. At the same time, there was a huge possibility that it would be seen as something else, something of a more…romantic nature, which Draco wasn't sure he wanted to convey. He didn't even know if he liked the Auror in a platonic, friendly way. The blond stood by the counter, weighing the possibilities in his mind, and eventually reached some semblance of a decision. He brought the jar back upstairs with him, staring at it the entire time, and eventually, wrapped it and called an owl to bring it to Harry's flat. This made him start to think more about what he had heard, continuing to think as he made himself dinner, ate, cast the spells to clean the dishes, brushed his teeth, showered, pulled on a pair of boxers to sleep in, crawled into bed with a recent publication on potions advances, fell asleep with the book on his chest.

He was aware, first, of someone else in the room with him, breathing deeply in sleep. He didn't dare open his eyes yet, confused as to why there was someone else in bed with him. After a few moments, when he couldn't fall back asleep, he opened his eyes and found himself staring directly at a lightning-shaped scar, half-hidden by hopelessly messy dark hair. The handsome wizard attached to the scar and hair muttered Draco's name and snuggled up to Draco's side, one arm over the blond's stomach, the other curled under the brunette head as a pillow. Draco then became aware of the fact that Harry James Potter, asleep in his bed, was  _naked_. His traitorous grey eyes traced the muscles he could see, drinking in the delicious sight of the sleeping Auror. As if he wasn't in control of his body, Draco reached one hand out and stroked Harry's back, shifting to make it easier to trace the line of the brunette's spine. Slowly, a pair of beautiful green eyes opened, looking lovingly up at Draco, a sleepy smile forming beneath them.

"'Morning, Draco," the sleepy Auror half-muttered, leaning up towards Draco's face.

Suddenly, Draco was sitting bolt upright in his bed, the harsh sound of a book hitting the floor filling his ears, the space next to him on the bed completely devoid of any human being, let alone Harry Potter. He could feel that his boxers were tighter than they ought to be, and groaned to himself. Why had he enjoyed that dream so much? He didn't really want to know. He scrubbed at his eyes with the heels of his palms, then dragged the fingers of one hand through his sleep-mussed hair, trying to decide whether or not he had the energy to braid it. He decided that it would probably wake him up if he braided it, so he got dressed in a pair of black slacks and a crisp white button-down shirt, then went to the bathroom to brush his teeth and tame his hair.

When he went down to the shop, he immediately felt that something was wrong. The shop itself was fine, but there was something off about the day itself. He decided to take inventory against what Harry had recorded as having been purchased the day before, especially cross-referencing the watched items. He came across several discrepancies, most of them on the watched items list, and decided to let it go as Harry being distracted by his friend's presence. When Harry came in, carrying the jar, Draco muttered a greeting and looked up. When he saw the jar, a look of hurt crossed his face. He hadn't signed the package, but it would be obvious who had sent the jar. Harry caught his look and seemed sheepish for a moment as he set the jar down on the counter.

"I-I'm going to bring this back with me at the end of the day, I just wanted to have it with me to look at," the brunette admitted, and a flush crossed Draco's cheeks.

"Of course," the blond replied as he went back to taking inventory. He wasn't sure if he liked the fact that Harry was so fond of the jar. He wasn't even sure if he liked the fact that Harry seemed to appreciate the gift. He just wasn't sure how he felt about  _Harry_. The man had been such an arse to him, for what seemed like no reason. The conversation the day before proved that there was a very valid reason, but it didn't feel like enough of a reason. The man had punched him in the face with no provocation, had invaded the place most sacred to Draco without so much as an attempt at decency…it was absolutely maddening. To keep himself from getting too outwardly flustered over it, he didn't look up from what he was doing until there was a sharp knock at the door, causing Draco to glare sharply in that general direction. As soon as he looked, Draco recognized Bilius Hacksby, and rushed to the door, opening it. The man looked absolutely terrible, and as Draco closed the door behind him, it was apparent the man was desperately trying to hold back his emotions.

"Mr. Hacksby," Draco started, trying not to sound alarmed. Harry was alert behind the counter, his glamour already in place. "Has something happened, sir?"

"There's been another murder," the Head of the Auror Department said simply, his nasal tenor choked with what seemed to be a horrible grief. "My youngest brother was visiting me this morning, and had brought his morning coffee with him. I had my own, so I didn't have any, but before he'd even gotten halfway through it, he…he started complaining of cramps. He thought he was going to vomit, so he rushed to the loo. I followed to make sure he was alright. The cramps only seemed to get worse, and after a while, he started seizing, and blood started to stream from his eyes like tears…and then his eyes themselves burst…and he…he stopped moving, just went limp, and…he was dead. His organs had burst, and the first medics to respond tested the coffee…it was the murderer we're after. He'd mixed his potion into my brother's coffee." Draco listened to the story with increasing horror, his mind racing, thinking of the ingredients that hadn't quite lined up properly in the inventory. Before he could help himself, he felt anger rising within himself.

"How could this happen?!" he growled, looking at Harry. "HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?!" Draco could see Harry's expression quickly growing hostile, and checked himself immediately. "I noticed some discrepancies in the inventory from the end of yesterday, most of them watched ingredients. Can you be completely certain that you noticed no one buying anything suspicious?" It was no use. Harry was already angry.

"You and Hermione were being such gits in the corner, I can't possibly be sure!" the brunette hissed. Draco flinched. "I tried to be as accurate as I could, but the most suspicious thing in the room was the way the two of you were acting! It was like you were plotting something! But, of course, since I was the one at the till, it's MY responsibility that this happened, MY responsibility that the killer has struck again!" Bilius Hacksby cleared his throat – or coughed, it wasn't clear which – and both men looked at him, quickly controlling themselves.

"Wherever the fault lies, this can't happen again," the awkward man choked out, exerting a control over himself that he wasn't used to having to exert. "You both need to be more careful from now on. Think hard – both of you – and try to single out anything that stands out from yesterday in particular. If anything occurs to either of you, send an owl to my office at once." Harry was obviously about to protest his boss going into the office that day, but the look on the man's face made it obvious that there would be no changing his mind. Once he was gone, Harry and Draco stared at each other across the shop, and slowly, both of their gazes slid to the jar of lights that still sat on the counter from the previous day. When they were both calm again, they looked away, Draco to one of the shelves, Harry to the item registry.

"We've got to clean up the mess we made yesterday," Harry said, and Draco nodded his agreement, though he still felt uneasy, as if that wasn't all that was wrong with the day. Something else seemed to be nagging at his mind, as if something huge were about to happen. No matter what he did with the remaining time before the shop opened, he couldn't shake it.


	11. A Jar of Light

"Merlin!"

Harry ran into an elderly gentleman.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" The man glared as he shuffled along, getting as far away from Harry as possible in the shortest amount of time his tired legs would allow. "Sorry!" shouted Harry again, before continuing his way toward his flat. He had decided to walk home that night to give himself time to think. His motivation to walk may also have been driven by a fear that an angry Hermione might be waiting for him. She had never actually returned his spare key after all. But this wasn't what plagued Harry's thoughts. What the Auror was so focused on that he ran into a passerby for the third time that night was none other than Draco Malfoy.

_That git._

Who did he think he was comparing himself to Harry? Then again…the two were isolated from the world due to their actions in the war… But Malfoy had been a death eater!

Harry kicked a stone and watched it bounce ahead of him down the now almost empty street.

Malfoy had been a death eater but he hadn't killed anyone… In fact, he had saved Harry once… Harry shook his head angrily. He couldn't start changing his mind. Sure, the blond had gone through great lengths to change his image, but wasn't that just more proof that it was all a lie? Wasn't that just a sign that Draco Malfoy's change was nothing more than a ruse and that as soon as Harry fell for it, he would be burned just as Malfoy's Dark Mark used to burn his flesh?

Harry kicked the stone again as he came up to it. He meant to kick it once more, but he had to round a corner and leave the stone behind.

For someone who was lying, Draco sure did seem to understand Harry's feelings. Their conversation had been short, but the Auror could not remember the last time he had spoken to someone who had actually understood. The blond hadn't told him to stop being selfish or to do his duty or anything of the sort. Harry supposed that was one of Draco's best qualities. The man never expected more of Harry than Harry was willing to give… Except for perhaps a bit of civility.

A wave of guilt washed over Harry as he thought back to the past few weeks and everything that he had done and how he had actually enjoyed it. But what else could he have done!? It was Draco Malfoy, for Merlin's sake! The man had spent years making Harry's life miserable. There was something satisfying about a bit a of revenge… and something almost nostalgic about their fights. At least when they were fighting, Harry didn't have to pretend to be interested, or pretend to care. At least with Draco Malfoy he was free to act as he damn well pleased… for the most part.

Harry apparated home, no longer wishing to walk. If he was going to start reevaluating his actions and feeling, he was going to need the comfort of his own home to do it. He landed in front of his front door, unlocked it, and stepped in. Thankfully, there was no angry Hermione waiting for him and Harry was free to undress, remove his glamour, and shower in peace.

_Draco Malfoy_

Would Harry really prefer to be the blond? He had never answered that question, but now that he could think about it without those grey eyes piercing his, he supposed he would. He was used to being hated. For 11 years of his life he was despised, and then at Hogwarts, something always seemed to happen that would turn the majority of the people he was trying to save against him. It was really only for the past five or six years that he was so universally loved… and it had taken a large toll on Harry.

An alarm started beeping, signaling Harry that someone or something who wasn't a Weasley or  
married to one was dangerously close to entering him home. Harry stepped out of the shower, shoved on his glasses, grabbed his wand from next to the sink and turned off the alarm before drying himself off with a nonverbal spell. He crept through his flat silently, on alert for anything strange. What he found when he walked into his kitchen was not a dark Wizard or a muggle thief trying to break in, but a snowy owl pecking at his window. For a brief second, he thought it was Hedwig. But the owl was much too large to be his old friend, and much too alive.

Harry sighed and opened the window, making a mental note to make a separate alarm for owls. The bird landed on his kitchen counter, exhausted. He had been carrying a rather large package for an owl and seemed to need the rest. Harry set out a bowl of water and a bit of food for it and grabbed the cylindrical parcel while the bird recuperated.

What on earth could it be? It had no note attached and no return address. It simply said "To Harry Potter" on the packaging.

Harry performed the necessary spells over it to verify that the package was safe and then went upstairs to check his sneakoscope and other various dark item and dark wizard detectors. His job had made him overly cautious. Ever since he had received a box of Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans that caused him to bleed from every pore of his body and almost killed him, Harry made sure to check every item that entered his home.

The package, however, seemed safe. Harry unwrapped it slowly and immediately understood what he was dealing with as a beam of light shone through the torn packaging. It was the jar of light from The Sleeping Dragon. Malfoy must have sent it to him. Harry unwrapped the package quickly, his caution all but lost, and took the jar into his living room. He sat on the sofa and held the light source in front of him with both hands, reveling in its glow.

Draco had sent this to him. What a thoughtful detail on the blond's part…

Harry grabbed his mobile and texted Hermione. He had never quite managed to bring himself to buy another owl after Hedwig, and mobiles were easier for sending messages anyway.

_Me: 'Mione. What is the jar of light in Draco's shop? You mentioned it.  
_

_Hermione: I'm sorry, I think that is filed under personal Harry Potter business. I wouldn't want to stick my nose in where it doesn't belong._

_Me: Please._

The response took ten minutes to come in, but at least it came.

_Hermione: I'm not sure what its function is, but I know that it's rare. It's bloody expensive and_   
_I'm surprised Draco even had it on display. It's probably worth more than his entire shop. I suppose he didn't think his customers would actually know its worth. He must have been right._

_Me: Thanks. See you and Ron for dinner tomorrow?_

_Hermione: Is that an apology?_

_Me: No._

Harry tossed his mobile on the sofa, grabbed the jar, and went to his bedroom. He set it on his bed and lay down next to it. The lights were now streams that swirled around each other and danced in intricate patterns.

Perhaps Draco Malfoy wasn't so bad. He could have sold the jar and made money to donate to a charity and help his image or he could have kept the jar for himself, but instead he mailed it to Harry without even signing his name on the package.

The streams of light slowed and then stopped altogether. Their brightness grew.

In fact, perhaps he was more than not bad… Harry's mind wandered to all the not bad qualities that Draco possessed and wondered why he hadn't noticed them before.

"It's because I've been a royal git."

He rolled over, clutching his jar of light, and spent the night thinking about Draco Malfoy and everything that his presence in Harry's life could mean. Perhaps… and only a very small perhaps… but perhaps Harry could even grow to _like_  Draco Malfoy.

"But never like him as much as his  _arse_ , of course."

* * *

Harry opened the door to The Sleeping Dragon, jar of light in hand. He hadn't wanted to leave it at home in case things got boring. Besides, after one sleeps with a jar, it doesn't seem right to abandon it right away.

As he walked in, Harry noticed Draco's eyes slide from him to the jar.

Great. Now he was going to have to explain himself and he was going to come off looking like an idiot.

"I-I'm going to bring this back with me at the end of the day, I just wanted to have  
it with me to look at," said Harry. It didn't escape him that Draco blushed at the  
comment.

"Of course," the blond replied before looking back to his work.

Wonderful. Now Harry was going to look like a jar carrying idiot. Well as far as he was concerned, Draco Malfoy was still a git… A  _blushing_  one.

Harry had barely reached the till when there was a loud knock at the door. Draco  
rushed to the door and opened it, allowing Bilius Hacksby to hurry into the store. His  
eyes were bloodshot and his posture was lacking. Harry tensed for bad news.

"Mr. Hacksby," Draco said, sounding slightly panicked, "has something happened, sir?"

"There's been another murder." Harry's mind started to whirl. "My youngest brother  
was visiting me this morning, and had brought his morning coffee with him. I had  
my own, so I didn't have any, but before he'd even gotten halfway through it, he…he  
started complaining of cramps. He thought he was going to vomit, so he rushed to the  
loo. I followed to make sure he was alright. The cramps only seemed to get worse,  
and after awhile, he started seizing, and blood started to stream from his eyes like  
tears…and then his eyes themselves burst…and he…he stopped moving, just went  
limp, and…he was dead. His organs had burst, and the first medics to respond tested  
the coffee…it was the murderer we're after. He'd mixed his potion into my brother's  
coffee." Harry's hand gripped his wand tightly. He'd never lost anyone on a case before...

Draco turned to Harry sharply and it took all of the Auror's self control to not raise his  
wand toward the blond.

"How could this happen?!" he growled, looking at Harry. "HOW DID THIS  
HAPPEN?!" Draco looked terrified and furious. Harry glared, ready to defend  
himself, but the blond quickly calmed himself, though Harry was sure it was just an  
act. "I noticed some discrepancies in the inventory from the end of yesterday, most  
of them watched ingredients. Can you be completely certain that you noticed no one  
buying anything suspicious?"

"You and Hermione were being such gits in the corner, I can't possibly be sure!"  
hissed Harry. If he was responsible, he wasn't the only one. He took a step toward  
Malfoy. "I tried to be as accurate as I could, but the most suspicious thing in the room  
was the way the two of you were acting! It was like you were plotting something! But,  
of course, since I was the one at the till, it's MY responsibility that this happened, MY  
responsibility that the killer has struck again!" Bilius Hacksby coughed and the pair  
looked up at him.

"Wherever the fault lies, this can't happen again. You both need to be more careful  
from now on. Think hard – both of you – and try to single out anything that stands out  
from yesterday in particular. If anything occurs to either of you, send an owl to my  
office at once."

Harry was going to suggest that Hacksby go home. After all, emotions like these only  
got in the way of an Auror's job, but he knew that if Ron had been the one attacked, he would never stay at home while others looked for the murderer.

Hacksby disappeared without saying goodbye and Harry's gaze once again met  
Draco's. Feeling awkward, the brunette looked to his jar of light and waited until he  
calmed down before looking away.

"We've got to clean up the mess we made yesterday," said Harry.

"Fine. How? We can't bring someone back to life."

Harry cringed. As much as he wanted to yell at Draco, he deserved that. The death  _was_  his fault. But so had many others been during the war... He had dealt with worse and this was no time to start feeling sorry for himself.

"Check all of your inventory and make a list of everything that is missing. I will write a list of all the people I remember from yesterday and what I remember them buying. Do you have a pensieve?"

"Upstairs."

"Can you bri-"

"Get it yourself." Harry flinched at Draco's comment. It hadn't been hostile, but something about it stung.

"Alright. Accio pensieve."

Nothing happened. Harry sighed as Draco ran around the shop, taking inventory and  
scribbling notes. The Auror climbed the stairs and came to a tidy and quaint looking  
flat. It looked nothing like a Malfoy's home should look. Sure, everything in it was  
expensive and tasteful, but there was nothing in it that reminded Harry of Malfoy  
Manor or of Sirius' old home.

Shaking his head, Harry forced himself to focus.

"Pensieve. Pensieve. Pensieve," he muttered, as he looked around. He opened a door  
and entered what seemed to be Draco's bedroom. Harry promptly closed the door and  
decided to check there last. Where on earth would there be a Pensive?

Admitting defeat, Harry decided to go back downstairs and ask Draco. The blond  
would have to stop doing his inventory for a few seconds whether he liked it or not.  
Harry growled. Even when he was helpful, Malfoy was a git.

Suddenly, a loud explosion ripped through the air and Harry bounded down the stairs.

"DRACO! RUN!" The Auror jumped over the banister and threw himself in front of  
Draco's body, deflecting a curse with a wave of his wand.

The small, mousy man from the previous day was standing before him, waving his  
arms as he spent spell after spell at Harry. It looked as though he had blasted through  
the front door. It seemed that it wasn't just the man's potions that were dramatic.

Harry threw up a shield and risked a glance at Draco. The man was huddled on the  
floor a few feet away.

"GET TO THE BACK ROOM, DRACO!" Harry shot another spell at the once mousy  
man. He was now anything but. The two men dueled, sparks flying in all directions  
as potions fell from the shelves. Harry had the man right where he wanted. He wasn't  
playing around this time. One more flick of his wand and the rat would be de-

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH HH!" Draco's scream broke  
through Harry's concentration and clawed its way through his heart. He turned as a  
crack sounded through the air. The attacker had disappeared and Harry knew it, but he  
didn't care. Draco lay in a pool of what seemed to be a mixture of his own blood and  
various fallen potion. He was breaking out in boils and his skin sagged from his bones  
as it shifted to a pale yellow color.

"Draco! Draco!" A jar of light fell from Draco's arms and rolled across the floor,  
coming to a stop when it thudded against a fallen shelf. "DRACO!"

Harry grabbed the limp body and apparated away.

"I NEED HELP! MY FRIEND IS DYING!"

A mediwizard ran up to Harry.

"What on earth happened to him?!"

"I don't know! A bunch of potions fell on him! There was an attack!"

"Merlin! I will call Draco Malfoy right away. He is the top specialist in po-"

"THIS IS DRACO MALFOY, IDIOT!" Harry ran away from the wizard who was  
obviously inept, desperately searching for a sign that would lead him to the potions  
ward. "WHO THE BLOODY FUCK IS IN CHARGE OF POTIONS?! FOR FUCK'S  
SAKE!"

And that's when everything went dark.

* * *

Red light shimmered from beneath Harry's invisibility cloak as he clutched Draco's  
gift. It was midnight and his head still throbbed from the stunning charms the St.  
Mungo's employees had sent at him. Three charms had hit him at once. Apparently  
there was a rule about running through the corridors and yelling obscenities while  
patients were sleeping.

Draco was still in danger and was not allowed visitors, so Harry had snuck in with his  
invisibility cloak after going back to the shop and retrieving the jar. He had ordered  
Aurors to guard The Sleeping Dragon in case looters showed, but he wanted to take  
extra care with this particular item.

As the light shimmered delicately, Harry stared at Draco in its glow. His breathing  
was labored and his skin was still a pale yellow. At least they had managed to get rid  
of the boils. Because they didn't know how many potions or which potions had fallen  
on the blond, they hadn't been able to cure him yet. Harry had been told that samples  
had been taken from Draco's skin and were being tested before any further work was  
done on the shop owner.

The Auror shifted in his chair by Draco's bedside, making sure that his invisibility  
cloak was still covering him, and leaned closer to get a better look at the blond. He could see cuts along the unbandaged portions of his chest beginning to scar. Hopefully they would fade with treatment. Under that, he could see other, much older and lighter scars. These were longer and seemed to have been caused by some sort of dark mag-

_sectumsempra_

That's what Harry had done... and yet the blond never once threw that in his face while they had been working together... And if that weren't enough, the reason for these new wounds were that instead of running as Harry had told him to do, the stupid git had gone and saved a bloody jar of light.  _Harry's jar of light._

As the days passed, Draco seemed to be getting better. The mediwizards on his case  
were confident that he would survive. There was only once when his health unexpectedly declined. That night, Harry had stared at Draco until morning, ready to call for help if needed. However, Draco recovered, slowly but surely. During the days, Harry went to the shop and oversaw construction, not trusting anyone else to fix the blond's beloved shop. He needed to make sure everything was perfect. During the nights, he would go back to Draco's room, hiding under his invisibility cloak, even though visitors were finally allowed. He feared how the Slytherin might react if Harry, the man responsible for his near death experience, suddenly appeared before him. He didn't want to cause the man to have a lapse in his health again...

It was on one of these nightly visits that a fire began to grow in Harry. It was obvious that he now cared for Draco, but perhaps there could be something more. Though first he was going to have to make amends with everyone, not just the blond. First thing on the list: destroy the murderer.

The Auror sighed and stood, sneaking out of the room without a sound.

He was going to find that mousy little man and kill him. After all, what was a rat to the savior of the Wizarding World?


	12. Aftermath

Draco was nearly finished taking stock of all the missing items when an explosion tore the door and most of the front wall of his shop out of existence, turning them to rubble and throwing Draco to the ground. The blond scrambled to his feet, fumbling with his wand as he tried to get it out of his pocket. He heard a curse being cast and tried even more desperately to get his wand out of his pocket, but it wouldn't come loose. He screwed his eyes shut, waiting for the curse to hit him. Instead, Harry Potter – yelling at him to run – deflected it with a flick of his wand. Draco started to, opening his eyes to look where he could run, and the first thing he saw was the jar of lights Harry had brought with him. As he gazed at the lights, he felt a rush of courage, and instead of doing as Harry said, he dove for the jar, cradling it close to his chest so it wouldn't break as he hit the ground. When Harry told him, again, to run, he started to pick himself up, but a stray spell had hit one of the shelves, toppling it directly onto the blond's outstretched leg, sending pain like a bolt of lightning through his entire body. Draco grit his teeth and clung to the jar for dear life, willing to protect it with his life if he had to. As the two men were dueling, several more spells went astray, knocking a shelf off-balance. It didn't fall immediately, but Draco watched it, wishing he could have gotten to the back room – the potions stacked on that particular shelf were mostly harmless on their own, but mixed together, they could be deadly, and Draco Malfoy sincerely did  _not_  want to die. He could feel his leg, trapped under the other shelf, bleeding, and quickly tried to assess what his options were. He was interrupted by immeasurable pain tearing through his body, the sensation of his skin burning off entirely, of wounds simultaneously opening and closing on his flesh, of boils erupting instantaneously, of a scream tearing out of his throat, of everything disappearing into black numbness.

He woke up some time later to sensations he didn't recognize. He was lying on a bed, but it wasn't his own, the mattress and sheets were different, and the pillow wasn't at all firm. His skin felt like every cell was being pulled away from his bones simultaneously, like someone was trying to skin him without a knife. It was terribly painful. His hair felt both dry and greasy at the same time. The bones of his left leg felt unsettled, as if someone had taken them apart and started to put them back together without finishing. His head felt like there was a wizard inside his skull sending jinxes and hexes in every direction. His entire body felt heavy, like he didn't have the energy to even move, but it wasn't like the days when he didn't have the motivation to live. Draco couldn't remember where he was, or what had happened before he wound up wherever he was, but it must have been bad. He could scarcely breathe from all the pain he was in, and he couldn't open his eyes or give any indication that he was awake. The wakefulness only lasted a little while before he slipped back into the oblivion of unconsciousness again.

The next time Draco woke up, he had the energy to remember what had happened, and the memory nearly knocked him back out. His shop, his sanctuary, his haven, had been destroyed. His safe place had been attacked. He had nearly  _died_. He groaned miserably, but the only sound that came out was a hoarse squeak, and he opened his eyes, startled that that was all he had of a voice. Once he saw the room around him, he knew exactly where he was – the potions ward in St. Mungo's. How had he gotten there? It didn't make sense. Judging by the light filtering in through the window, it was about noon, which only told him that he'd been there at least a few hours. He was about to continue trying to figure out what, exactly, had transpired between his losing consciousness and winding up in the hospital when the door opened, admitting one Ron Weasley and one Hermione Granger, both of whom gasped when they saw Draco was awake.

"You're awake," Hermione said, rushing to one side of the bed and pushing a few buttons, raising Draco into a seated position. The blond winced in pain at the motion, and Hermione flinched in apology. "It's been three days since you got here…they said you'd be alright, but you weren't waking up, and we weren't sure…when Harry told us what happened, we tried to come and see you right away, but they wouldn't let us in, something about your condition being too serious at the time to let anyone in…"

"'Mione," Ron interrupted, and Hermione clapped a hand to her mouth, backing up into one of the seats and landing rather heavily in it.

"Sorry," she breathed out after a few moments, once she had dropped her hand from her mouth. "I was just so worried…at least you're awake now."

"My shop," Draco croaked out, barely more than a whisper. "Is it…"

"Don't worry about your shop," Ron replied, taking the other chair. "There are Aurors guarding it day and night. Everything is taken care of."

"But—"

"Stop. Everything's taken care of," the redhead repeated, allowing for no argument. "You need to focus on healing."

"The medics said that you got here just in time," Hermione said, looking as if she still feared for Draco's life, as if he could slip away at any moment. "They took overly long analyzing exactly what potions had mixed together, how much had hit you, how they could treat it. They said you're very lucky to have survived at all. The yellowing should clear up on its own in a few more days, and they're doing their best with the rest of it. It'll be at least a week till you can go home, since they can't fix everything at once. That would kill you for sure. They're working on stabilizing your vitals first, and once the effects of the potions are nearly cured, they're going to start on your leg. They're doing the best they can."

"You're going to be alright, mate," Ron said, though there was little cheer on his face. "You're going to be alright. We're going to catch the man that did this, the medics are going to patch you up, and you'll be home before you know it. Before you ask, Harry brought you here." Draco wanted to ask more, like if Harry had stayed, if Harry cared at all, if the jar had made it through alright, but the door opened again, this time admitting Lucius Malfoy, wearing a sneer and all the finery he could manage. Ron and Hermione shared a look, and they both stood up. "We'll be back soon." Draco wanted to beg them to stay, but his voice wouldn't even croak anymore, and all he could do was watch as they walked out of the room, leaving him alone with the one person he didn't want ever to be alone with. He adopted a stony expression, hoping that it would keep his father from doing anything drastic.

"It would appear that little shop of yours got you into some trouble, Draco," the elder Malfoy sneered, taking a few slow steps towards his son's hospital bed. "Didn't I tell you that things like that were beneath us, that it would only lead to trouble?" The elder Malfoy had now reached Draco, and placed one long, elegant hand on the younger blond's chest. Draco fought the urge to cringe in pain – his skin was very sensitive, and the pressure made the pain worse. As Lucius spoke again, he pressed down on Draco's chest, lightly at first, but getting harder and harder as he spoke. "I warned you. Anything that happens to you now is your own fault. Everything you've been doing has been for naught. You will never accomplish your goal. You will never be happy." By the time his father finished speaking, Draco was in some serious pain, his whole body spasming in a desperate, survival-style attempt to get away from that pain, twitching and writhing and trying to get away, trying desperately to get away, to make it stop. Even though Lucius removed his hand and swept out of the room, the pain lingered, and Draco's body still twitched and convulsed and writhed in the aura of pain that now surrounded him. He wished that he could scream, call out for help,  _something_. Luckily for him, Hermione and Ron weren't far away, and when they came back in, Hermione went immediately into work mode.

"Ron, find the nearest medic you can, it doesn't matter if it's the one who's been working with Draco, we need help, and we need it  _now_ ," she ordered, rushing to Draco's side. She didn't dare touch him for fear of making the pain worse. "Draco? Draco, can you hear me? It's Hermione. I need you to breathe, to calm yourself. Ron's gone to get help, it won't be long now, OK? You'll be alright." Within moments, Ron had returned, and a medic followed him into the room.

"I'm going to give him a sleeping draught," the medic said, holding up a small vial of a particularly strong draught. "It should stop the pain and allow him to rest for a while. I'll alert his medic to perform a thorough examination, to make sure no lasting damage is done and that he hasn't destabilized. All I can do for now is make him comfortable, and I'll have to ask you to leave for the day and tell anyone who wishes to visit him to come back tomorrow." Hermione nodded, and as the medic poured the draught down Draco's throat, she and Ron left, Ron's arm around Hermione's shoulders to keep her from getting too upset.

As Draco healed, the only time he seemed to be alone was at night as he slept. His mother visited a couple of times, Bilius Hacksby even visited once, and Hermione visited as often as she could, dragging Ron along when she could. His father was barred from visiting him again. And Harry? Draco never saw the brunette, not once, while he was in the hospital. The blond didn't quite understand why this disappointed him so, but nonetheless, it did. Hermione was there when he was discharged to make sure he made it home alright – at least, that was what she told Draco. They Apparated together, landing down the street from the shop, and walked in companionable silence to what Draco expected to be a still-ruined storefront. What he saw completely shocked him. The storefront had been restored to exactly what it had been before the attack, with the addition of two Aurors guarding the door on the outside. Draco had to stop and stare at it for a few minutes, and Hermione waited patiently, grinning to herself. When he finally regained his senses, he let them into the shop, ushering Hermione ahead of him and following her in. Again, he had to stop and stare. Everything was as it had been before the attack – all the shelves and displays were in their proper places, the walls were their proper shades, even the floor where he'd bled and been nearly killed by his own stock looked as if nothing had ever happened. The shelves were all stocked with their proper inventory, and the behind-the-counter displays were fully stocked with their restricted-sale inventory. Draco couldn't believe his eyes, and had to fight the tears of joy that sprung to his eyes, threatening to spill over.

"Hermione…you knew about this, didn't you?" he said, turning to the bushy-haired witch, who simply nodded. "Did you…?" She shook her head. "Who did, then?"

"Don't worry about who, Draco," Hermione said, reaching into her bottomless handbag and pulling out a small vial. "Just remember to take this before you go to sleep tonight. Ron and another Auror will be here tomorrow to stand guard during shop hours, in addition to the shift change for tonight. You'll be safe, and so will this shop." She smiled, handing the vial to Draco, who accepted it and smiled.

"Thank you for all you've done for me," the blond said, wanting to hug the witch but not wanting to offend her. "Not many would have done the same, especially considering what I've done in the past." Hermione smiled, shook her head, and held her arms out for a hug, which Draco enthusiastically accepted.

"I'm just glad to see you're alright, Draco," she said as she released him from her embrace, going back to the door. "I plan to come back and check on you periodically, you know. I hope you have something new and wonderful to show me next time I'm here."

"I take that as a challenge," the blond replied, "and I heartily accept!" Hermione waved goodbye with a cheeky smile, and closed the door behind her. When she was gone, Draco turned back to his precious shop, gazing lovingly over every little detail, meandering through it, running his graceful fingers over the polished wood of the shelves and displays, over the various pots and jars and vials and plants (though he avoided the cacti). He was happy to be home again, so very happy to be home. When he'd had his fill of the shop – which took a few hours – he went upstairs to his flat and prepared himself some dinner, wondering about who it was who had repaired his shop so precisely. He took the vial of potion before he went to bed that night, and woke up in the morning refreshed and ready to reopen for business. He showered, getting the built-up grease out of his hair, and braided his hair, dressing himself in a crisp red button-down shirt with grey slacks. He went down to the shop and let in Ron Weasley and another Auror whom he didn't recognize, closing and locking the door behind them, as it wasn't time to open the shop yet. Ron took up his old spot behind the till, and the other Auror looked around, musing to himself about the work that had been done. Eventually, the unknown Auror turned to Draco.

"Harry really did a good job with this place," the stout man said, looking around again distractedly. Ron's eyes widened to the size of saucers, and he immediately attempted to hand-signal to the man to stop talking, he'd already said too much, but Draco had heard.

"What do you mean, Harry did a good job?" the blond replied, as the shaven-bald Auror looked at Ron quizzically, like he had no idea what the redhead was doing.

"Didn't you know? It was Harry who supervised the construction," the unknown Auror said, turning back to Draco. "He spent all day here while the construction was going on, and sneaked off every night to do who knows what. He would've been on the security detail if he'd gotten enough rest, but Hacksby ordered him home to rest."

"You mean that all of this," Draco gestured to the whole shop, especially the places that had needed the most work, "was the doing of Harry James Potter? That Harry Potter oversaw the reconstruction of my shop? That he made sure all of this got put back just the way it was?" The bald man nodded, looking around again. Draco was silent for a few minutes, staring incredulously around, before suddenly turning to Ron. "Ron, do you think you can open up the shop today? I have to go run an errand. I shouldn't be too late, but it's urgent." Startled, Ron nodded, pulling his spare key out of his pocket and setting it on the counter so he wouldn't forget. "Thank you." With that, Draco let himself out of the shop and started towards where he knew Harry Potter to live, intent on getting some answers out of the brunette himself. As he walked, he started to plan what he wanted to say to the Auror, half-glaring at the ground in front of him as he thought. The more he thought about what he wanted to happen when he got there, however, the more worked up he got about the whole thing, and the more worked up he got, the more irrational his thoughts became, until he was standing in front of Harry's door, his thoughts a whirlwind that even he couldn't follow, but there was no turning back, so he raised a hand and knocked.


	13. Harry's Pureblood Encounter

The alarm beeped, waking Harry from his much-needed sleep. He had spent most of the night under his invisibility cloak, standing outside Draco's shop in case of another attack. He didn't quite trust the Aurors that had been put on duty the night before. Swearing as he realized that the alarm meant someone unknown was at the door (or a window, or who knew what else). Harry grabbed his wand and got out of bed, prepared for anything. He made a mental note to buy a muggle security system. Cameras would be handy at a time like this.

After checking various Dark Arts detectors, Harry made his way to his front door and looked through the peephole to see none other than Draco Malfoy standing outside.

Harry opened the door and the blond tore into the room.

"Draco? Are you alright?"

"Since when am I  _Draco?"_  The blond strode briskly around the room, unable to keep still.

What on earth was Draco Malfoy doing in his living room, and why wasn't he resting?

"Dra-" Draco growled. "Right. Er…  _Malfoy_. I'm going to make some tea. You should take a seat on the sofa."

"I'll do I damn, bloody well please!" shouted the blond before promptly sitting down and burying his face in his hands.

Harry, completely bewildered, went to the kitchen and put a kettle on the stove. What was wrong with Draco? He was acting erratic, which was something that a Malfoy would never do… Harry peeked behind him over the counter and across the living room to see the blond muttering to himself and shaking his leg nervously.

The Auror waited for the tea to be ready and set it on the kitchen counter. As he did so, Draco whipped his head up and then stood up almost as quickly. In just a few strides he had made it to the other side of the counter, and stood glaring at Harry.

Harry wasn't sure what to do or what was wrong so he went for a neutral fact.

"So…I see you are well…"

"Well you would have  _seen_  that much earlier if you had bothered to  _care!_ " spat Draco.

"What?"

"What is wrong with you, Potter? Do you hate me that much that you leave me alone in the hospital with severe wounds and then forget about me? What's one less Death Eater in the world, right?"

"Dra-"

"Don't call me that! And how  _dare_ you? How dare you leave me and then turn around and do something as thoughtful as completely restoring my shop! I suspect you paid for it as well! What is wrong with you? Don't you see that your actions have consequences?! You can't run around being a pig one day and kind the next, Potter! That's not how life works! You have to pick one! You can't drive people insane this way, it isn't fair! And the jar!"

Harry listened to blond's ramblings, bemused. He'd never seen Draco so worked up before, and whether he was upset or not, at least it was because of Harry. "Where's the jar, Potter? Did you chuck it in a hole and hide the evidence by now?!" Draco started looking around as if expecting to find shattered glass tucked away somewhere.

"Draco, I-"

"I told you not to call me that! Ron visited! Hermione visited me! My own father was there! He went to torture me, sure, but he visited! You could have gone at night, but no, you disappeared to do who knows what! And WHERE IS THE JAR?!"

Draco began looking around frantically once more.

"Malfoy. Malfoy!"

"I bet you were guilty, weren't you? That's why you fixed everything. Well, I don't want your guilt or your pity. Where did you disappear to at night?!"

Harry grabbed Draco tightly by his upper arms. As amusing as this might be, it was becoming too much. The blond was starting to sound a bit too much like a frazzled Hermione for Harry's liking. The blond froze under his touch and brought his wide eyes towards Harry's.

In a voice that could almost be mistaken for calm, Draco once again asked about Harry's nights.

"I was told you went off somewhere at night. Where did you go?"

"Er… Well, I…to see you… I guess." Draco made no reply and this time it was Harry's turn to ramble. "At first you weren't allowed visitors, so I sneaked in under my invisibility cloak, but then I assumed you wouldn't want to see me anyway, so I stayed nights to make sure you were okay. During the day I oversaw the repairs. That's why I stayed home today. Hacksby caught me last night uhm… I wasn't resting enough so he made me and… The jar is in my bedroom."

"You were caugh-"

"In front of your shop because I was making sure you weren't attacked." The words were out of Harry's mouth before he could stop himself. He could see Draco's eyes getting impossibly wider as an array of emotions played out on his face. "I'm sorry."

The blond closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again and looking at Harry.

Harry was unsure of what to do. The seconds ticked on and Draco remained silent. The Auror still had his hands on the blond's arms and wanted nothing more to bring Draco toward him and close the gap between him, but he feared his advances would be met with rejection.

Draco's eyes seemed to be searching for something in Harry's face before they finally fell to Harry's lips. This was all Harry needed to lean in slowly and lightly brush his lips against the other man's. Draco remained with his eyes open, frozen in place.

Harry had never felt so awkward and out of place before in his life. This had been a terrible mistake. Why the hell would he kiss someone who was so obviously upset with him?

As he pulled away, however, Draco leaned in and kissed him back. Encouraged, but still wary, Harry pulled the man against his bare chest, wrapping his arms around him, and gently ran his tongue along the blond's bottom lip before sucking on it lightly. Draco groaned against Harry's lips. The Auror, emboldened by the sound, slipped his tongue past the blond's weak defenses and deepened the kiss.

At last, Draco began to kiss back in earnest, his hands reaching up to tangle themselves in Harry's impossibly messy black hair. The two pressed tightly against each other until Harry could take it no more and grabbed Draco, setting him atop the kitchen counter without breaking their kiss, and managed to settle himself between the other man's glorious legs.

He instantly regretted his move.

Draco detangled his fingers and pressed his palms against Harry's chest, pushing the brunette away from his body.

"I…" Draco cleared his throat and Harry backed away, giving the man room. He looked obviously uncomfortable. The blond hopped down from the counter, smoothed his clothing, and cleared his throat once more. "I have to leave."

"Uh…what? " Harry shifted awkwardly, trying to hide the now embarrassing bulge in his pajamas.

"I left the shop in the hands of two Aurors, and I'm sure they need me. One of them is new."

"Right. Yeah. 'Course."

"I hope you have a lovely day."

"Wait!" Harry caught Draco's arm before he could leave. "Tea."

"I apologize, but I really must be getting back." Harry released Draco, who gave a slight bow and then hurried away and out of the flat, leaving the Auror confused and thoroughly frustrated.

Grumbling, he shuffled over to the sofa and flopped down, trying desperately not to wank.

"Accio journal!"

Harry's journal flew toward him and he caught it with one hand.

"Hermione, if you have broken in to read this-" A crack sounded through the air and Hermione Granger appeared before Harry, confused, and wearing her reading glasses.

"What on ea- Oh! You're writing in it! Wonderful." She sat down on the sofa next to Harry. "Tell me, what happened?"

"What in Merlin's name-"

"I enchanted your journal to bring me here the next time you wrote in it. It really just saved me time. I was going to come over today anyway. Kinglsey is worried about you and Hacksby believes you are going to go off into the night when you should be resting again."

Harry's eyes widened in horror.

"They sent you to BABYSIT ME?!"

"Correct. Now, what happened?"

Harry flung the journal across the room and threw his hand up, completely exasperated. It was one thing for a boss to be concerned, but quite another to send someone to watch over him like a child.

"I'm leaving." Harry walked to the front door which opened as soon as he was near enough and smacked him in the face, only to close again.

"You shouldn't do that. The spell I cast on the journal not only brought me here, but activated a series of other spells. You can't leave."

"YOU CURSED MY JOUNRAL TO KEEP ME PRISONER?" Hermione rolled her eyes and let herself into the kitchen. "Are you seriously going to bake me cookies right now?!"

Hermione didn't answered and Harry growled in response to the silence. Nobody was going to keep him locked in his own house. He was an Auror for Merlin's sake. He stomped to his bedroom closet, grabbed his broom, and made his way to the window. He flung the window open and tried to jump out, only to be pulled back in by the vines of a plotted plant that Harry swore he had never seen before.

"Sorry, Harry! The plant came with me when you-"

"WROTE IN THE JOURNAL! YEAH. I GET IT. MAKE YOUR BLOODY COOKIES!" Harry went back to the closet to get his invisibility cloak, but he couldn't find it. "Hermione!"

The witch appeared in Harry's doorway with a bowl of batter in hand.

"Your cloak is with Ron. He took it while you were sleeping."

"I'm going to kill you both."

"You need your rest, Harry. And you need to talk to me. What happened?"

"It's none of your business!"

"I know he was here, Harry. I can smell his cologne in the kitchen." Harry groaned and hurried to the living room where he sat on the sofa to brood. Hermione followed. "What happened?"

"If you must know, he came to yell at me for being a complete and total arse."

"Well, it's about time."

Harry ignored the jab and continued. He actually did need to talk about what had happened, he was just too stubborn to admit it.

"I apologized, I explained a few things, and then we kissed and he left. The end."

Hermione placed the bowl of cookie dough on the coffee table and sat next to Harry.

"Oh, Harry. I'm so sorry."

"It's fine. It didn't mean anything."

"Harry…" She touched his arm gently, somehow managing to make him feel worse.

"I just don't understand. I'm supposed to hate him."

"You haven't hated him for a while now, Harry. You've just been denying that fact to yourself. "

"Ok. Yes. At St. Mungos it occurred to me that I care about Draco, but that's it! I care about a lot of people! I don't go snogging them!"

Hermione removed her hand, her interest piqued.

"Snog? It wasn't just a simple kiss?"

Harry was too wrapped up in his thoughts to hear.

"I don't even understand what I feel anymore and I'm terrified because that stupid blond drives me insane in all the right ways and 'Mione! You should have seen him today! He was all worked up. For the first time, it felt like he was being himself and I just wanted to grab him and throw him on that counter and… Merlin. I'm dead, aren't I?"

Hermione stared, obviously in shock. Whatever she had expected, Harry figured this confession was not it.

"'Mione?"

"I knew it! I knew you were undressing him with your eyes! I knew you fancied him! Bloody hell!"

"Hermione!"

"Oh, shove it. I was right. You fancy Draco Malfoy."

Harry tugged uncomfortably at his hair, a war raging within him. Did he like Draco? Perhaps. In a romantic light? Well… he had kissed the man. The blond had a Dark Mark… But so what? Snape had one and he did many amazing things for the right side before he died. People were capable of change and that included Draco Malfoy… and it also included Harry James Potter. Even if the thought terrified him.

* * *

Harry slipped his extra key into the lock of The Sleeping Dragon. It was lunch time, so he knew he wouldn't cause a scene if he visited Draco. Hermione had allowed him to leave his flat as long as he promised to talk to Draco openly and honestly. It was time for him to start being a brave Gryffindor once more.

"You, sir, are supposed to be resting. Please go home and do so." An unamused Draco Malfoy was standing in the middle of his shop, holding a stack of papers, as Ron and Auror Diggins fiddled with the till.

"I think I've had my fill of rest, thanks." Harry snapped despite himself. He cleared his throat, reminding himself to be calm. "In fact, I wouldn't mind a bit of excitement." He took a slight step toward Draco. Oh, Merlin. Had he just flirted? Was he flirting?

Ron snickered from behind the till, but Draco seemed oblivious.

"Sir, it is lunch time, and you are not working here, which means you must leave my shop without your excitement. Find it elsewhere." Harry did his best not to roll his eyes. Didn't the blond understand that he didn't want excitement from anyone else? That he hadn't wanted that in a while if you excluded the night he got piss drunk and ended up blowing and eventually shagging a ma in his shower… And the occasional dream… But hadn't all that happened after he saw Draco again?

"When you showed up at my home without any warning, I was more than hospitable. You should at least pay me the same amount of courtesy." Harry tried to mirror Draco's way of speaking, while alluding to the kiss they had shared only a day ago.

The blond seemed to be annoyed, but remained polite as usual.

"...Fine. Would you like to come upstairs and have lunch?"

Harry grinned widely. He could see Ron's shocked face from the corner of his eye, but he ignored it and followed Draco's gorgeous arse up the stairs and up to his very uncertain future.


	14. Messy Feelings

As soon as they got upstairs, Draco went to the kitchen and started making sandwiches – he'd planned to make one for himself, and he had some extra ingredients, so if Potter insisted on staying, he would have to make do with what Draco gave him. He also put a kettle on the stove for some tea, as he felt a headache coming on and needed to calm down. He looked up just in time to see Harry fall off of a stool, and smirked to himself. Watching the normally-sure-of-himself Auror slip and fall so awkwardly was amusing. He could see the Auror's panic at having been seen, and the trace of something as that green gaze lingered a moment too long before a determined frown worked its way onto the brunette's face.

"Smirking? Really? Could you at least  _try_  to be nice?" Harry spat with a little too much venom, probably trying to cover something up. Draco knew exactly what the brunette would want to cover up, but he refused to let himself think about it.

"I shall be civil, Auror Potter, but not nice," the blond replied, mirroring the brunette's words from the first day they'd been alone together in the Sleeping Dragon. Harry looked thoroughly unamused. "Tell me something, Potter. Why did you decide to visit me when you've been ordered by your superior to rest?" Something that looked like discomfort crossed Harry's face before he spoke.

"I wanted…to talk about the  _incident_ ," the brunette said. Draco knew right away what was being spoken of, but again, he refused to let himself think of it, so he reverted to the first of two other incidents that could possibly fit.

"Yes. The attack was rather unfortunate, but my shop is repaired, I am well, and the identity of the killer is known, which means that he will be caught soon, so there is nothing to—"

"No," Harry said, his words just barely not a growl. "The  _other_  incident." Draco swallowed hard. He was down to one escape route, and that escape route was a flimsy one.

"Of course. My father's visit. The healers at St. Mungo's are talented, so it wasn't as major as it could—"

"NO!" That one word, that one bellowed syllable, pierced deep into Draco's heart, scaring him to the core. Harry was angry, like he had been before, and all the progress that had been made had crumbled, and before Draco knew what he was doing, he had his wand out and pointed between Harry Potter's eyes.

"Don't you dare come near me, Potter," the blond ordered, his voice much shakier than he would have liked. "Don't you dare!" He felt and sounded like a scared child, and even as he watched the realization spread across Harry's face, he couldn't help but be scared of that anger. Harry had very nearly charged him, and Draco was shaking violently all over. Brandishing his wand couldn't possibly be a good idea – he would very likely accidentally kill Harry if he tried any spells. After a few moments, Harry slowly raised his arms in surrender, turned around so that his back was to Draco, and went over to the sofa, where he sat down, leaving himself completely vulnerable. Now both scared and terribly confused, Draco slowly put his wand away, wishing he knew what in hell was going on.

"I'm scared, too," Harry started, as if there were more to say. Desperately gathering together his self-control, Draco looked down at the two sandwiches he'd made. He was still seriously scared, and he just wanted everything to go back to the way it had been before.

"I think you should leave now, Harry," he said, pointedly using the Auror's first name. Obviously, trying to distance himself from what had happened wasn't going to work. "I have to reopen the shop soon." But Harry didn't budge.

"I'm sorry, but I refuse to leave," the Auror said defiantly, and Draco looked up, alarmed.

"Excuse me?" The blond couldn't believe this. He had thought that maybe, if he was obstinate enough, he could get the brunette to leave…he thought that the brunette might have some kind of respect for boundaries, if they were set strongly enough…

"I'm not leaving until you hear what I have to say," Harry replied, and Draco bit back his anger as best he could. "I won't yell at you again, but I won't leave, either."

"You can't just come in here and take over my home!" he spluttered, still scared, still confused, but now angry, too. He didn't know what to do with all of these emotions.

"You didn't seem to have a problem having a fit in mine," the brunette countered, "so I don't see the problem with my sitting calmly in your living room." A reply sprang to Draco's lips, angry and hurtful, but that wouldn't be civil, and he had said he would be civil, so instead, he simply took his sandwich and went back down to the shop, trying desperately to reel in his emotions. When he got back down to the shop, Ron looked worried, and even Auror Diggins seemed concerned.

"Is everything alright, mate? We heard Harry shouting, and—"

"Everything is fine," Draco replied, setting his plate on the counter. "If you would please unlock the door so we can reopen, Ron, I would greatly appreciate the opportunity to eat at least a little of my lunch." Ron did as he was asked, not wanting to exacerbate whatever was bothering the shop owner, and though they all kept glancing at the stairs, Harry never came down. They closed up the shop, and Ron and Auror Diggins waited outside the shop for the night shift to come stand guard while Draco went back upstairs, not even noticing the heavenly aroma wafting from his kitchen until he was standing by the table, staring at a delicious-looking spread of food and a rather self-impressed Harry Potter. Draco sighed.

"I don't have the energy to argue with you, or to be mad at you," the blond sighed, falling into his seat, feeling like there was nothing he could do, like he was defeated. Harry just grinned.

"Let's eat, then," the brunette suggested, and they did. Draco had to admit that the food was delicious, though he said nothing aloud, preferring to eat in silence. When they finished, they sat staring at each other for a few moments.

"Since you took the time to make this, you can take the time to clean it up as well," Draco said, not looking at Harry. "And once you're done, you can see yourself out." Harry nodded, and started clearing off the table, bringing everything to the sink by hand. Draco went into the living room and grabbed the book he was reading from his coffee table, sitting in the armchair that matched his expensive sofa. He listened to the sounds of Harry washing the dishes by hand as he read, and when the sounds stopped, he looked up, hopefully to watch the Auror leave, but instead, Harry simply sat down on the sofa. Draco closed his book slowly, trying to contain himself.

"Please, Harry, I just want some peace," he said, not looking at the Auror for fear that he might get angry again. "I want some time alone. Please see yourself out. I don't have the energy to deal with you right now." The blond looked up when he finished, and Harry looked almost sad.

"I know that you're scared," the brunette said, refusing to look away. "It took me a while to really get a handle on everything. I get it. And I'm sorry for this, but I'm afraid that if I leave now, you'll never have the energy to deal with me." Draco wanted to look down at his book, at the staircase, anywhere but at Harry, but the brunette's green-eyed gaze had caught his and refused to let go, just as the brunette himself refused to leave. "I just want to sort things out and make sense of what happened between us. I want to know if you're afraid because you regret it, or because you don't. If you really want me to leave, before you kick me out, I don't regret what happened, not for an instant." Harry paused, as if expecting Draco to say something, to react in some way, but the blond could do nothing but stare. He felt so confused, so helpless, that he feared any attempt at speech would turn into useless blubbering. Harry seemed to take this as encouragement to continue. "I really did hate you. A lot. I couldn't get the fact that you had been a Death Eater out of my head. I was stuck in the past, like I have been since the war ended, but I'm tired of it. I've been complaining for ages about how people only care about me because of something I did years ago, but I've been hating you because of something you did years ago, when you were scared and confused." Draco was still scared and confused, and as Harry paused again, the blond remained silent, for the same reason as before. Again, Harry took it as encouragement to continue. "Slowly, I started to see you as a person, a real person, even though I didn't want to. When you were attacked and I almost lost you…and then that kiss…I really didn't know what to think. But I do now. I care about you, Draco, genuinely and completely, with your past and your present, all of it." This time, when Harry paused and Draco didn't respond immediately, the brunette started getting fidgety. This time, Draco had to respond. He took another moment to find the right words.

"I tried not to judge you, Harry, when I met you again," the blond started, deciding that honesty would be his best bet. "I tried to keep my mind clear. Since the war ended, since I got this shop, I've tried so hard not to feel anything for anybody. And then you came along and ruined that all. At first, all I felt was anger, but it was a feeling. It was an emotion, and I wasn't used to emotions. I was used to hiding from them. You were insufferable and rude and it angered me, but you did such nice things sometimes. You weren't just an infuriating imp. There was more to you than that. And it scares me that I cared enough to find what more there was. It scares me, Harry, it really does, and I would like some space to try to deal with the fact that I feel." This response seemed to relax Harry a little bit, as the Auror stopped fidgeting.

"I just wanted you to hear what I had to say," Harry replied, subdued and somewhat sad. "I'll leave you your space now. I'm sorry for scaring you earlier, and I'm sorry for intruding. If you decide you want to talk to me again, I'd be happy to hear from you." With that, Harry stood, and hesitated for a moment before giving an uncertain bow, like he wanted to do more, but he wanted to give Draco his space as well. Draco got up as well, and hesitantly started to go over to Harry, but the brunette straightened and started to walk away without even saying goodbye. Without really thinking about what he was doing, Draco rushed the last few steps towards Harry and grabbed the brunette's shoulder. Harry turned slowly to look at him, confusion plain on his face, and before he could think too much and talk himself out of it, Draco leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Harry's lips. Harry returned the kiss cautiously, as if he were afraid that Draco would disappear at any moment if he did the wrong thing. When they parted, Draco looked conflicted, and Harry looked scared, like he thought Draco was just trying to be cruel.

"Goodbye for now, Harry," the blond said gently, offering an apologetic smile, which Harry returned, glad to see the blond smiling, at least.

"Yeah. Goodbye for now," the brunette mirrored, and Draco took a step back before turning completely away and heading down the hall towards his bedroom, which he quickly sealed himself in, locking the door behind himself so that Harry couldn't come in and twist up his heart even further. Draco was scared, he was confused, and he was so tired. He didn't know why he had suddenly caved into the part of his messy feelings that was attracted to Harry Potter, didn't know why he couldn't have taken the time to unravel everything before doing anything so rash, but he knew that it was somehow the right thing to do, that he owed it to that part of himself. He felt the spell that signaled that his shop was locked, and he leaned his back against his door for a moment before sliding to the floor and curling up into a ball, sobbing into his arms. He wished he was close enough to someone to ask them for help, because he couldn't deal with this on his own. He would go insane if he tried it. Maybe…maybe Hermione could help him. She didn't seem to be as biased against him anymore, and she was the brightest witch of their age…through sheer willpower, Draco managed to calm himself and got up, sending out a call for an owl. He went to his desk and penned a letter to Hermione, asking her to help him sort out his head. She wrote back promptly, saying that she would be over straight away, and that he should just get a muggle mobile, as they were far more convenient forms of communication. Within five minutes of receiving her reply, Draco felt the spell that denoted the shop door being unlocked, and let himself out of his room, waiting at the top of the stairs for the bushy-haired witch, who smiled gently at him when she saw him.

"Draco," she greeted, holding out her arms for a hug. Draco accepted it, noting that he'd probably have to get used to such a greeting from the witch. "What's going on in that head of yours that needs sorting out?" The blond sighed and gestured to the sofa, walking with Hermione to the living room and taking a seat next to her.

"It's Harry," he said plainly, staring at the hardwood floor. "I can't figure out what I feel…and it scares me, too. Since the war, I haven't felt a thing for anyone, and…since I met him, he's done nothing but make me feel. At first I was just angry, because he was so rude and maddening, but the more time I spent with him, the more I saw in him, and now it's all tangled up in my head. I'm still angry with him for how he treated me, but he's brilliant, and he can be so wonderfully kind...and I had this dream after the first day I was alone with him in the shop for the day. I dreamt that I woke up, and he was lying in bed with me, naked, and he woke up, and leaned in to kiss me…I actually woke up before he could, but…I'm just so confused." Hermione nodded understandingly.

"I know how you feel, Draco," she said, thinking of how frustrating and how wonderful her husband could be. "You want to beat him and snog him at the same time, throttle him and hug him, kick him and hold him close." Draco nodded miserably. "Ron's the same way – frustrating sometimes, but he does the sweetest things to make up for it…they both realize when they've messed up, and they'll do whatever they have to to make up for what they did. Harry's only frustrating as a defense mechanism – he doesn't want things to change from what he knows them to be, and his first reaction is to block out whatever's changed, to try to deny that it changed. He really does care about you, though. He just wants you to see that he's trying, that he's doing his best. There's a part of him that still doesn't want to accept that you've changed, but he's fighting that part as hard as he can. He really does care."

"Are you sure?" the blond asked, looking up at Hermione. She had this warm, kind expression on her face, like she knew what Draco was going through, and he supposed she did. "He's a brilliant Auror, and he restored my shop without being asked…and everything that he said to me when he came earlier and refused to leave…"

"Do you care about him?" Hermione asked suddenly.

"I…I do," Draco replied. "The jar of lights that he likes so much…do you know what it is?"

"I know it's expensive and rare, but I'm not entirely sure what it is," the bushy-haired witch admitted, though it pained her to admit there was something she didn't know.

"It's extremely rare, an ingredient used in only one recipe that's mostly lost to time spare an ancient book of alchemy I have in my collection," the blond explained. "If anyone can get their hands on it, it's mostly now used for therapeutic reasons, as it has a great influence on mood. It's made from fairy lights, and will on its own give whoever's looking at it whatever emotion they need to feel at the moment, regardless of what they're feeling to start with. The potion it's used in was one to cure depression completely in one dose, and it did work very well, but it was devastating for the fairies, so it fell out of use. I had it in case my own depression became so bad that I wanted nothing more than to die, so that I could make the potion, but I had hoped I'd never have to. When I saw how much Harry liked it, how much good it did him, I thought that it would be better for him to have it and for it to serve a much better purpose. I gave up my best bet at life for him because it did more for him than it ever did for me, and I respect that." Hermione's expression had gone from gentle and understanding to deeply sad and touched, and Draco gave a small smile. "So, in answer to your question, yes, I do care about him."

"Tell him what you just told me," the witch said quietly. "Tell him that. He deserves to know. Are you still confused, or…?" Draco's smile settled more comfortably in his face and he shook his head.

"Why don't you tell me more about your terribly frustrating husband?" the blond said, trying to lighten the mood. Hermione laughed, and it was only half forced.

"He's wonderful, too, you know," she rebutted. "When he has to come home late from work, he'll stop and pick up a bouquet of flowers, or a box of chocolates, and the next day, he'll make dinner himself, just to make up for it. He goes so overboard…" Draco chuckled.

"Like Harry restoring my shop to exactly what it was to make up for not being able to protect me from my own stock," he said. "It sounds to me like we've got horridly wonderful taste in men. We pick the ones who mess up the most, but who make up for it even more!" At this, Hermione actually laughed, and they just sat laughing for a minute or two at the men they cared about. They would have laughed for longer, but they both heard a noise downstairs, and instantly calmed down. It sounded like a voice – no, two – arguing with each other, and then the voices started coming up the stairs, and both Draco and Hermione moved towards the staircase, coming into view just in time to watch Harry and Ron tumble onto the floor at the top of the staircase. Draco and Hermione both raised an eyebrow at the two on the floor, and Ron's ears turned a lovely shade of red as Harry cleared his throat.

"We, uh…we thought we heard something…coming from up here," the brunette tried, looking as if he knew this was the worst excuse in the world.


	15. Space

Harry flopped onto his bed and groaned loudly. Draco Malfoy had willingly kissed him  _again._  Despite all their progress in the past few hours, that was all he could think about.

He had to give the blond space. He had to be thoughtful and wait. He had to be an adult about all this… But why had he kissed him?! It wasn't necessary. There was a tiny part of Harry that believed that Malfoy was just playing with him. That he was pretending to need time, but in reality he had no intention of anything with Harry. Why would someone ask for space and then bring another kiss into the mess?

He needed to talk to someone. He needed, as much as he hated to admit it, Hermione Granger.

Harry grumbled to himself as he forced himself out of bed and into the kitchen, where he had left his mobile. He called his friend, but it seemed that her mobile was off because it went straight to voicemail. He dialed a different number and tried again.

"Hello?"

"Ron! Great. Listen, I need to talk to 'Mione."

"Sorry, mate. She's out. I'm always here for you, though." Harry hesitated so Ron continued. "I'm fine with you talking to me about him. I hear everything from Hermione anyway. It was a bit weird at first, but she talks about it enough that I don't care that much anymore."

"Oh. Well… Ok. Want to come over?"

"Be right there."

Ron hung up and Harry heard a roar from his fireplace. Harry rushed over and sat down on the sofa, not bothering to offer his friend a dink.

"Ok. So when someone asks for space, but then they kiss you, but then they leave and lock themselves in their room so you have to see yourself out, what does that  _mean_?"

Ron blinked and took a deep breath.

"Uh. Well… It means you should give space and that they like you."

"But-"

"Harry, it's best not to over think it. He kissed you, so he likes you. He said he needs space, so he needs it. Something about you staying upstairs with him must have done something. He had Hermione go over the-"

"What?!" Harry jumped to his feet. Hermione was with Draco?  _Hermione_  was with Draco?

"I…She..."

"HERMIONE IS ALONE WITH DRACO?! TALKING ABOUT ME?!  _ALONE?!"_

Harry tore into his room and grabbed the first cloak he could find.

"Harry! No! You aren't going to barge in there! Don't be an idiot!"

"She's probably telling him all sorts of things about me! She probably already made him tea or cookies and acting like he's her best friend in the world and then she'll have him in the palm of her hand!"

"Blimey! You make her sound like a crazy, manipulativ-"

"SHE CURSED MY JOURNAL, RON! I CAN'T LEAVE HER ALONE WITH DRACO!"

"NO! YOU AREN'T GOING!"

Harry turned on the spot a split second after Ron grabbed him and the two found themselves on the ground in front of The Sleeping Dragon.

"Don't make me punch you, Ron!"

"You need to give the bloody Slytherin space!"

Harry shoved his hand in Ron's face as the redhead dug his elbow into the brunette's side.

"She's going to ruin the progress I made!"

"You're going to make him realize how crazy you are!"

"Why do you care!"

"Because I don't want to have to deal with Hermione ranting about you could have been happy but you threw everything away! Do you know how much I have to listen to her go on abou- Fucking, hell!"

Harry had kneed Ron's hip, causing the man to shout in pain and giving Harry the split second he needed to push him off and run to the door. He fumbled with his key but managed to jam it in the lock and open the door, before Ron sent a hex his way. Harry ducked to avoid it and then ran for the stairs. Ron grabbed on to the back of his cloak and yanked roughly, causing Harry to tumble backward onto him. They almost fell to the ground, but Ron was strong enough to catch his friend and keep himself up.

"Let go!"

"Not until you decide to leave!"

Harry twisted out of Ron's hold and shoved the man back before running upstairs. Ron followed loosely behind and in one last desperate attempt to stop Harry, the redhead tackled him to the ground, only to look up at the two people he was hoping to avoid.

Harry instantly regretted having come over. He should have listened to Ron. This was a terrible idea and now he had to explain why he and Ron just crashed to the floor in Draco's home just a few hours after the blond had asked for a bit of space.

"We, uh…we thought we heard something…coming from up here." He pushed Ron off and got to his feet. "Obviously everything is alright. See Ron? I told you there was no need to rush up here."

Ron glared at Harry as he got up and dusted himself off.

"Harry…" Hermione crossed her arms before continuing. "Neither you nor Ron are on duty tonight."

He looked at Ron for help, but his friend only looked away.

"Well, uh… Yeah. But uh… The schedule changed and we came instead." He nodded.

Silence hung in the air as everyone stared at Harry, unimpressed by his abysmal attempt at lying. Just as he opened his mouth to explain further, loud shouting came from the street outside.

Ron looked at Harry before turning and going back down the stairs. Harry followed quickly. He could hear Hermione and Draco following behind. The door burst open and an Auror ran inside, bleeding from his left arm.

Harry looked back at Draco and Hermione, both untrained, but at least Hermione had experience from the war.

"Draco, stay back. Hermione, only follow if we need backup." Then he ran out with Ron in tow. A young Auror, newly trained, was battling the mousy man that had attacked Draco's shop and killed Hacksby's brother. This time, Harry wasn't going to let him go alive.

With Ron to his right, and a stubborn Hermione to his left, the trio ran toward the fight. Hermione screamed as the young Auror fell dead to the ground and she tripped over his body. The dark wizard shot a spell at her, but Ron stepped forward in time to block. Harry moved to attack as Ron checked to see if his wife was okay, but a sharp pain stabbed him in the back.

"Harry! There's two!"

Harry ran to find cover, throwing up a protection charm behind him as he did so. He didn't know where the other attack had come from and he wasn't sure if anyone else was hiding in the shadows.

He heard Hermione's shrill scream and ran back into the battle without thinking. He had to save her.

A figure shot red light at him.

"STUPEFY!"

The figure fell to the ground and he kept running. Where were Ron and Hermione? Where had everyone gone?

A flash of blond caught his eye and he saw Draco running toward him, a mix of fear and fury evident in his expression.

"BEHIND YOU!"

Harry turned in time to see the small man grinning wildly, but not fast enough to block the attack. He fell to his knees as an unimaginable pain ripped throughout his body and he heard a pained scream that could only possibly be his own. The world was drown out by the blinding heat inside him and he tried desperately to fight it, to get up, to save his friends.

As the pain began to subside, a new wave hit him, ripping another scream from his body.

There were shouts and the sound of a body hitting the pavement. Then more shouts, and the pain was gone.

It was as if a miracle had happened.

Harry forced himself to his feet and looked around, disoriented. Draco was sitting a small body.

The small body of the man who had attacked the shop.

"DRACO!"

Harry ran, stumbling slightly as his body regained control of itself, but managing to get to the man without falling. Draco held a vial firmly in the mouth of the struggling attacker. With the other hand, he held the man's head down firmly. Draco's legs held down the criminal's struggling arms and two wands lay discarded on the ground.

Harry watched in horror as Draco threw the vial away and stepped back to watch as the man began his convulsions. His eyes bled and eventually burst. The body twitched and then moved no more.

A sob escaped Draco's lips and he began to walk away; back in the direction of his shop.

Harry started after him, but a shout stopped him.

"Harry!"

He turned and saw Ron crouching in a shadow, over an injured Hermione. Ron shook his head slowly and at once the brunet understood. His friend didn't want him to go after Draco. He wanted Harry to give the man space. But after everything that had happened, there was no way he'd be able to forgive himself he wasn't there for Draco. He wasn't going make the blond fight his demons on his own.

One way or another, he was going to save  _someone_  tonight.


	16. Lives Saved

Draco stumbled into his shop and towards the counter, trying desperately to get control of his emotions – so desperately, in fact, that he didn't pay much attention to what he was doing. He had just  _killed_  a man. A murderer, but a  _man_. A person, flesh and blood and bone. He had just been so angry and so hurt and so scared…without realizing quite what he was doing, he had opened a drawer behind the counter and pulled out a knife that he kept there for certain inventory. He unbuttoned the cuff of his left sleeve and pushed it up past his elbow, coming just enough out of his thoughts to realize that he meant to die but not enough out of them to stop himself. He had the knife pressed to his skin and was already bleeding when a voice tore through his thoughts.

"Draco! What are you doing?!" It was Harry Potter, the Boy who Lived, the man who had nearly been killed outside the Sleeping Dragon. The brunette tore across the shop and came to a halt millimeters from crashing into Draco. He gently wrapped one hand around the hand holding the knife, and the other around the dripping red wrist. Harry maneuvered the knife away from Draco's wrist, away from the veins, just  _away_. When he spoke again, it was a soft, gentle murmur. "What were you thinking?" Draco's face was covered in tears, and the blond was bleeding on his shirt. As he spoke, Harry cast a gentle healing and cleaning spell on the tiny cut Draco had made.

"I just killed a man, Harry," the blond said, his voice on the edge of hysterical sobbing. "I saw the Auror that he killed…and…I knew him, Harry, I knew him. A year and a half ago, he was still in Hogwarts, about to start his seventh year, and I was walking back from getting some new inventory when I saw him crying in an alley. I stopped and asked him what was wrong…his mother was sick, and they couldn't afford to bring her to St. Mungo's. I brought him back to the shop with me and…and I made a potion for his mother, and he tried to pay me for it, but…I wouldn't let him. They couldn't afford the hospital…so I gave him the potion, and he left, and he was crying again…I knew him, Harry, I helped him in his time of need…and he came back here…he became an Auror and came back here to repay me for what I did…and he _died_  because of that…he died because of _me_ …"

"Draco. He did not die because of you," Harry interrupted, even though it was obvious Draco had more to say. This train of thought was dangerous, and if the blond kept going, he might make a grab for the knife and reopen his arm. "He died doing his du—"

"And then I saw him going after you, I saw him hurting you," Draco half-sobbed, obviously losing whatever control he had managed to build up. "I ran back in here and grabbed the little bit I'd made of his potion, to make sure I'd got it right…and I added a few more rose hips, to speed it up. I was just so angry that he would hurt you…and when I saw him _torturing_  you, I just…I couldn't let him hurt you, couldn't let him kill you, so I tackled him to the ground and I forced it down his throat…I murdered him, Harry! I'm going to be locked up in Azkaban for the rest of my life, to wither and die alone in a cell, so why shouldn't I just end it here?! It's either this or Azkaban! What would you have me do?!" The expression on Harry's face – that pure pity, that complete and utter pity – just made Draco feel worse, and the blond had to grab onto the counter to keep himself from falling to the floor in a sobbing heap. Harry hesitantly put a hand on the small of Draco's back, as much to comfort him as to steady him.

"You're not going to Azkaban, and I'm going to tell you why," the brunette said, in such a tone as to force Draco to listen. "You didn't force it down his throat. We had him cornered, and he drank it himself, because he knew he couldn't get away this time. He killed himself to avoid being sent to Azkaban. Nobody else saw what happened – Ron was taking care of Hermione, and the other Auror was busy bringing the other attacker in for questioning. You didn't kill him. And even if anybody else saw, everyone here trusts you and cares about you, and wouldn't let anything bad happen to you. You're not going to Azkaban, and you don't have to face this alone." Draco stared at Harry for a few moments, still crying, still clutching to the counter to keep on his feet, before deciding it would probably help more to cling to Harry than to clutch the counter. He did just that, throwing his arms around the Auror and holding tight. Harry seemed to take a moment to process what had just happened before wrapping both arms securely around Draco, holding the shop owner close, making sure the blond didn't collapse to the floor. They stayed there in relative silence – at least, until Draco started sobbing aloud – for quite a while. Neither moved or said anything, and they both heard the door to the shop opening and then closing again almost as quickly as it had opened, like someone had started to come in looking for them but had seen them and decided against it.

Eventually, a few on-duty Aurors showed up to take statements from everyone who had been involved and was still alive, and Draco reluctantly let go of Harry. He was slightly more steady on his feet than he had been, but he still had to lean on the counter as he gave his statement to the Aurors, who took Harry aside to take his, in case they somehow influenced each other's statement. It took Draco much longer to give his statement because he was still so upset, and when he finished, he didn't see Harry anywhere in the shop. He asked one of the Aurors, who said that Harry had gone upstairs. Slightly confused and still very upset, Draco climbed the stairs as well, and reached the top just in time to hear a kettle screech that its contents were hot. He went to the kitchen, where Harry was pouring hot water into two mugs, each with a tea bag resting peacefully inside of it. Harry picked up the mugs and turned to head towards the stairs, stopping when he saw Draco standing in the doorway.

"I thought you could use something to calm your nerves, and I happened to remember that you have a rather impressive selection of tea," the brunette explained, handing Draco a mug. "Lavender. I didn't know if you wanted any sugar or milk or anything in it." The blond attempted a smile and took the offered mug. The smile fell away almost immediately, but Draco sipped at the tea, hoping it would help. "Why don't we sit down? You still seem pretty shaky." Draco nodded, and led the way to the living room, where he curled up at one end of the sofa, both of his hands wrapped tightly around the mug of tea. Harry looked unsure of where to sit, so Draco nodded to the space next to him on the sofa.

"Sit with me. It's easier to talk if we're sitting next to each other," the blond said quietly, looking briefly at Harry before turning his gaze back to his tea as it steeped in the mug. Harry took the seat next to Draco, who felt the desire to be curled around the brunette rather than the arm of the sofa creep up on him. After a few moments of silence, Draco shifted and rested his head against Harry's shoulder, holding his tea on his lap rather than the arm of the sofa and shifting a little closer to the brunette. It was far more comforting to be curled around a person than around a piece of furniture, after all, and Harry made it even better by placing his arm around Draco's shoulders. They stayed like that in silence for several minutes, each occasionally sipping their tea, until Harry finally broke the silence.

"I know what it feels like to think that someone died because of you," Harry said, gently stroking Draco's upper arm as the blond sipped his tea, trying to fight back another wave of tears. "It's awful. The guilt and the loss on top of each other…it's beyond terrible. But he didn't die because of you, Draco. He died because of a mousy little man who didn't want to face up to what he'd done. He was here because you made an impression on him with your kindness and wouldn't let him pay you for it. One of the other Aurors told me that he had volunteered to be here, and I'll bet he did that because he wanted you to know just how much he appreciated what you did for him and his mother. He wanted to help you in return for your having helped him, yes, but he was also here because that mousy little man made it necessary for him to be. It's not your fault. Even if you hadn't found him crying, even if you hadn't helped him, there would have been someone out there tonight bested in a fight against a desperate criminal. He was a talented wizard, and he had the chance to be because you helped him when he needed it. If not for you, I wouldn't be here right now. He got the best of me, too, but you stopped him. You saved so many other people. If you hadn't done what you did, so many more people would have died. You saved me, you saved Ron, you saved Hermione…you saved my two best friends. I can't possibly thank you enough for that."

"You saved me, too," Draco replied quietly, rubbing at his left wrist. "If you hadn't come in when you did, I would have killed myself. You cared enough to ignore the fact that I asked for space and save my life. You cared enough to stay and make me tea after the Aurors were done talking to you. You  _stayed_." He paused for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts, and instead of saying anything else, he lifted his head and kissed Harry on the lips, reaching a hand up to the back of Harry's neck so that he wouldn't fall over. Harry kissed him back, tightening his arm around Draco's shoulders. It was the kind of kiss that says more than any words, the kind that can't be interrupted by tongues and libidos. When Draco pulled back, a small smile crept across his face again, and he rested his head back on Harry's shoulder, feeling far calmer and far more relaxed. "Will you stay here with me tonight? I don't think I can be alone, but I don't think anyone else would help." Harry smiled softly and kissed Draco's forehead.

"I'll stay as long as you need me, and as long after that as you'll let me," the brunette replied, gently resting his cheek against the top of Draco's head.


	17. Into the Arms of Glory

Harry slipped on his elbow and his faced crashed onto his desk.

"Auror Potter?"

"I'm fine! Sorry. Go on."

Alfred Tagrid, a wiry old man with an unnatural fondness for tedious work (whose parents rather enjoyed rhyming names, as evidenced by his siblings: Hildred and Margred Tagrid), nodded and continued on with his prattling about this report and that error.  _Paperwork, paperwork, paperwork._

Harry could feel his eyelids becoming heavy again and sat up straight to avoid another embarrassing slip onto his desk.

"Now, about Mr. Malfoy. I understand that he was the one to..." Tagrid cleared his throat. "… _dispose_  of the murderer, but it isn't stated very clearly why or how a civilian was given that task."

Harry leaned back in his chair and let the words he had practiced a thousand times that morning flow from his lips.

"It's very simple, actually. Mr. Malfoy was worried about Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger. They have become close friends of his. I believe they visited him quite a bit at St. Mungo's."

Harry stopped and waited to be asked more questions. He did not want to seem over eager in answering. If he had learned one thing in his time dealing with criminals, it was how to lie effectively.

"Yes. But how did Mr. Malfoy end up... Well, you know." The thin man pushed his glasses up and looked at the report nervously. It was obvious that death and battle were not his specialty. "You really should have written this in the report, Mr. Potter. I mean no disrespect, but you are always much too vague."

And that's precisely why Harry had not given all the details. He thought it would be suspicious if he suddenly started being thorough with his case reports.

"Right. Sorry." He gave an apologetic and slightly awkward smile. "Well, I was the only witness. Auror Weasley and his wife were indisposed. Auror Geoff Carlton had been killed and... Well, I was cornered by that disgusting little man and his partner. It was dark and was alone. I didn't know where the spells were coming from. Eventually I took down the partner, but then that idiot, Pinkerton..."

"Yes, yes. The murde- The crim- Yes. Rupert Pinkerton."

"Right. Well, he grabbed me from behind you see. And Dra- Mr. Malfoy had already seen that I was outnumbered and ran back to his shop."

"Why?"

"Excuse me?"

Harry held his breath.

"Why did he run back if he wanted to help and was worried?"

He exhaled slowly.

"He dropped his wand when he first ran out. He' not used to all that excitement. He prefers his shop and his books and his item checks and counting and all that. I'm sure you understand." Tagrid did look like he understood. In fact, he seemed like he understood a bit too well. Harry couldn't help but take advantage. "It was really hard for the poor bloke. He's been living a quiet life for so long, and he never really had a stomach for all that fighting. Did you know he only has the dark mark because his family would have been killed otherwise? It was forced on him." Tagrid gasped and shot a hand up to cover his mouth. Harry's eyes twinkled. He'd already won.

"You see, Mr. Malfoy ran back and grabbed the first potion that he could think of. It was the potion he had replicated earlier. The one the  _murderer_  had concocted." Another shudder came from the man. "He arrived just in time to shove the vial into the killer's mouth and save me. He was about to use the killing curse on me. I had no wand. Luckily, the short idiot didn't see Mr. Malfoy come up behind him with the vial. It was easy for him to wrap his arms around Pinkerton and save my life. And of course, save everyone  _else's_  life."

Tagrid's eyes were filled with worry. He sat quietly for a few moments before taking a small vial from his pocket and drinking what Harry could only assume was a calming potion. The old man then nodded and at last spoke.

"That's very insightful. Now for the case involving the Boggart from a few months ago. I'm afraid I never received the paperwork since you had to go undercover..."

Harry leaned forward and propped his chin in his hands as he let his mind wander to Draco and if he'd be upset after waking up alone with nothing but a note left on the pillow next to him. He didn't have much time to ponder on the matter though, because there was soon a small knock at the door.

"COME IN!" shouted Harry, a bit too eagerly.

Hermione poked her head in.

"I'm terribly sorry to bother you, Mr. Tagrid, but I'm afraid I have some urgent business involving Auror Potter."

"But the Boggar-"

"This message comes from the _minister_  himself. I'm sure you understand."

"Of course. I'm dreadfully sorry!" The wiry man gathered his belonging quickly, gave a swift bow, and scurried from the room.

Hermione walked in, closing the door behind her and threw a copy of the morning Prophet on the desk.

"I take it Kingsley doesn't actually need me?"

"You should be thanking me and reading that paper."

Harry gave the witch a wide grin before grabbing the Prophet. He didn't have to look far. On the front page, there was a picture of a terrified Draco Malfoy as he tried desperately to unlock his front door and get into his shop before being mobbed by a crowd of reporters. The headline read "Draco Malfoy Afraid of Truth Leaking Out! By Rita Skeeter"

"HOW ON EARTH IS THIS WOMAN STILL WORKING?!"

Harry stood angrily and threw the paper into his fireplace.

"It says Malfoy was secretly part of the killings and that he killed that horrid man because he was about to be ratted out. He's being harassed and mobbed. It's terrible."

"WHAT!? I HAVE TO GET OVER THERE!"

"Wait! Harry, it also speculates on the na-"

"FOR ONCE JUST MOVE AND STOP TALKING!"

Hermione stepped out of the way and Harry ran out the door and tore through the hallway toward the lift.

Blast the Ministry and their stupid no floo network in the offices policy!

As Harry ran, he turned a corner and bumped into Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"Harry! Just the man I needed to s-"

"No time! Very sick! Can't work!"

"Harry! You aren't si-"

"HAVE YOU SEEN THE PROPHET? He saved me! He solved the case!"

Kinglsey sighed in defeat and Harry ran off again, catching the lift just before the doors closed behind him.

As soon as the doors opened, Harry shot out of the lift and into a crowd Ministry accountants who all fell like bowling pins. The irony of them not knowing what bowling pins were was not lost to Harry even as he rolled across the floor and jumped back onto his feet, leaving the men to sort themselves out behind him.

Draco was sensitive. His friend had only just died and the blond had never exactly been the picture of happiness. What would happen with a crowd of reporters shouting lies and accusations at him? Had he managed to get in his shop safely? Had he harmed himself like he had planned to the night before?

Harry knocked over two more Ministry workers who were in line to use the floo. Only this time, he knocked over the workers on purpose.

"Sorry! Didn't mean to!"

Fuck. He had left his floo powder in his office.

He leaned down and grabbed a bag that had fallen along with its owner and threw the whole thing into the fire, too impatient to untie the strap and pinch out the appropriate amount.

Fucking fuck. Was Draco' fire tied to the floo?

"HOME!"

Harry stepped out of his own fire and quickly apparated to the shop, where he found himself in the midst of a crowd of yelling reporters.

"IT'S HARRY POTTER!"

"Please, let me through!"

"AUROR POTTER! WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY ABOUT THE ALLEGA-"

"NO COMMENT. LET ME PASS!"

"MR. POTTER, IS IT TRUE THAT MR. MALFOY WAS THE REAL KILLER ALL ALONG?!"

"OF COURSE NOT!"

"MR. POTTER, WHAT DO YOU THI-"

"NO COMMENT!"

Harry tried pushing through, but the crowd was too tight and he couldn't just shove down a man in front of flashing cameras."

"POTTER! WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT THE DEATH EATER BE-"

"HE'S NOT A BLOODY DEATH EATER! WHY DON'T YOU ALL JUST SOD OFF AND LEAVE HIM ALONE!?"

"SO IT'S TRUE THAT YOU ARE SLEEPING WITH THE FILTHY DEATH EA-"

Harry swung and smashed his fist straight into the reporter's nose. He was rewarded with a satisfying crack. Flashes started up like crazy and Harry raised his wand, causing sparks and smoke to fly out, driving the reporters into a panic.

In the midst of all the confusion, Harry managed to reach the door of The Sleeping Dragon and slip in the key he had taken that morning. He quickly shut the door and suddenly the chaos outside was nothing but a muffled rumble.

Bless the workmen that had treated the wood with noise reducing agents. Taking a deep breath, Harry walked to the stairs, worried about what he might find above.

As Harry climbed the spiral staircase, he couldn't hear any noise coming from the room. This only worried him further. What if Draco was hurt? He hurried the rest of the way, only to walk in on Draco sitting calmly on his sofa and reading a rather large book.

The blond looked up from the book long enough to say "You're late," and then continued to read.

"I... what? Were we meeting?"

"The article has been out for hours. I thought that the hero would have shown up early to save the day. Do you mind making a bit of tea?"

Draco's tone was too calm. It was almost unnerving.

"Draco... Are you alright?"

"No. No I am not bloody well alright!"

He snapped his book shut and set it aside before standing.

"I wake up to a note with nothing written on it but 'Went to work.' and then when I come back from a walk to clear my head because I saw a young friend of mine get MURDERED last night, I AM FOLLOWED HOME BY A MOB OF ANGRY REPORTERS WHO BELIEVE I AM A SECOND DARK LORD!"

Draco shouted so rarely, that Harry actually liked it when the man got angry. It seemed to be the only time that he could let his guard down.

"I didn't see the paper until recently. I'm sorry. And I had to leave early, I-"

"Is this how it's going to be? You are just going to sleep over to keep me from having a bloody panic attack, only to give me a fright in the morning when I wake up and find that you're gone?! I searched the whole flat and the shop before I found that bloody note under the bed!"

"I put it on the pillo- Wait. Going to be? Does that mean I will be sleeping over again?"

Draco glared at Harry and went off into the kitchen to make tea.

"It isn't fair you know."

"What isn't?" Harry grabbed Draco's favorite blend and handed it to him.

"I spent five years trying to reinvent myself, trying to bring honor to the Malfoy name and now... They still think I'm a monster. But I suppose life isn't meant fair."

"Fuck life! Fuck honor! When are you going to start acting like a real Malfoy and MAKE them respect you. Fight back!"

"Yes. Let me just enrage the already hostile reporters."

"Why not? They've already slandered your name. They can't do much worse."

Draco seemed to think Harry' words over before disappearing into his room and coming back out with a brightly colored box.

"Ronald gave them to me as a get well present. I'm not exactly sure what's inside, but I seem to recall Weasley joke products to be slightly sinister..."

Draco marched up to the window and without any warning, opened it and emptied the complete contents of the box on the unsuspecting crowd. Dozens of small, brightly colored balls fell to the ground and burst in puffs of colored smoke. As the smoke cleared, the screams began.

Some reporters were purple, others had fish scales, one was seemed to be emitting a nasty smell because others stayed clear of him. Draco's favourite, though, was the one who had turned silver and green. They were the perfect shades of Slytherin colors. The crowd dispersed quickly and Draco turned to Harry with a confident sneer on his face.

It was an expression that Harry had not seen in years.

"The effects should wear off soon," said Draco.

"Then let's head off before they get back."

Draco's fire turned out to not be connected to the floo network, so they scurried downstairs and Harry apparated them both away, to the only place he knew they'd be completely safe.

"Where on earth have you taken me?"

Harry grinned as Draco looked around in horror. This was good. If he could keep the blond busy with other things, he wouldn't have time to be upset.

"I live here. You've been here before."

"Was it always this...  _messy_?"

"Well... Yeah. Yeah it was. I think you were too upset last time to notice."

"Why is there a shirt on your living room floor? How do you live like this?"

"It's actually very easy. You see, first I come home." Harry walked to the door and back, pretending to have just come home. "Then I take off my bothersome shirt or uniform." He let his cloak drop to the floor and then removed his Ministry shirt. "And then I sit on my sofa and do whatever I please." As Harry walked to the sofa, he noticed that Draco's eyes were glued to his bare chest. Not wishing to be disrespectful, he quickly grabbed his shirt back up from off the floor. "That's it! That's how I do it."

As he tried to get dressed hurriedly, the blond stopped him by setting a hand on his arm.

"I'd much rather you are comfortable in your home. Don't mind me, Auror Potter."

"Auror Potter? Draco, you don't need to call me that. And the last thing you need right now is a half naked guy bringing you into his mess. I'll clean."

"If you are going to clean, then you need to take off those Ministry official trousers. You mustn't get them dirty."

"It's actually fine I-"

_Wait._

Draco Malfoy was  _flirting_  with him.

"It's not fine, Potter, and I won't have it."

The blond grabbed the shirt in Harry's hands and tossed on the floor.

"Draco... Draco, are you alright? Last night and this morning were difficult. I don't want to-"

The blond sighed in annoyance and walked back to sit on the sofa.

"To be honest, I need the distraction. I don't want to think about all that, Harry. If I do, I'll fall apart. I can't do that today. I don't have the energy. I don't think I could take it again. There are too many feelings. I need to focus on one.  _An easy one_."

Harry wasn't sure what to do. Draco Malfoy was sitting on his sofa, asking for sex, but after everything that had happened... He took a deep breath and looked to the jar of light sitting above his fireplace.

He supposed it couldn't  _hurt._

That single thought was all took for Harry to join Draco Malfoy on the sofa and kiss him in a manner that could only possibly be described with one word. It was  _heartbreaking,_  but in the most delicious way. And from that heartbreak, like a phoenix, a stronger, more capable heart grew within Harry, overwhelming his senses and thrusting him into the arms of glory.


	18. Want

After that first deliciously heartbreaking kiss, everything that followed just seemed sloppy and graceless, regardless of whether or not it actually was, but Draco didn't care. He could finally just allow himself to feel something without restraining it to the point of numbness. He grabbed Harry's waist and pulled the brunette closer, crushing their lips together, running his tongue across Harry's lips, begging for access to his mouth, and Harry let him in with a half-whimper, half-groan that drove Draco mad. The blond wanted Harry more than anything else in the world just then, and he wasn't going to let anything ruin it. He ran one hand up Harry's back and rested it between the brunette's shoulders, pressing them closer together, quickly leaning Harry back towards the sofa for easier access. He could feel how tight his trousers had become, and he wanted to relieve it. Somehow, he missed the sofa, and both he and Harry went tumbling to the floor. Draco lifted himself up off of Harry, unable to keep the overly sexual grin off of his face.

"I think we need a bed," he purred, his eyes roaming down the brunette's bare torso, drinking in the beautiful sight before returning his gaze to Harry's face. The Auror looked flustered and embarrassed and thoroughly aroused, and scrambled out from under Draco, pulling them both to their feet and dragging Draco in for another kiss. As soon as Draco was absorbed in the kiss, he felt Harry tugging at the waistline of his trousers and moving, trying to lead the blond in a certain direction, and he complied, keeping their lips pressed tightly together, his hands on the brunette's forearms to keep up with where he was being steered to. Eventually, they stopped, and suddenly, Harry was gone and a door had closed behind Draco. He opened his eyes and looked around, momentarily confused, but as he turned around, he saw Harry leaning back against the door, fiddling with the fly of those damned Ministry trousers, starting to open it torturously slowly. There was a mischievous gleam in the brunette's green eyes.

"You're still fully clothed, Draco," the Auror murmured, half opening the button of his fly. "Fix that." Draco smirked in response and started to unbutton his shirt slowly, going button by button, dragging it out, until he finally got to the last button. He shrugged the material off of one shoulder first, letting it slide down his arm, and then shrugged off the other shoulder, letting the shirt fall to the floor. He watched Harry take in the sight of him shirtless – the first time the brunette had seen Draco without a shirt, the blond realized – and almost flinched at the pained look that crossed the auror's face as he took in the sight of the Sectumsempra scar across his chest. Of course it would be painful for Harry to see, and Draco had expected that kind of reaction, but what he didn't expect was when Harry reached a hand out and ran his fingertips along the fine, pale scar, as if he were trying to take back what he had done in that bathroom. The blond caught Harry's hand in his and lifted it, kissing the back of it.

"I forgive you, Harry," the blond stated, smiling slightly less sexually than before, and Harry replied by dragging the blond into another kiss, pressing their torsos together. They did their best to seal themselves together, each exploring the other's mouth with their tongues. As they snogged, Harry reached down between them and undid both of their flies, guiding Draco's hands to push down his trousers, and soon, they were naked on the bed, groping each other and trying not to lose control too soon. Draco settled himself between Harry's legs as they sucked and bit and groped, reaching down to tease the brunette's entrance, pulling away from his lips for a moment. "Do you have any…?"

"In the nightstand," Harry moaned, obviously very close to losing all control. Draco nodded and reached over to the nightstand, pulling the drawer open and pulling out a jar of oil. He opened the jar and set it on top of the nightstand, coating two of his fingers in the oil and bringing them back down to Harry's entrance, stroking gently to relax the brunette before pushing one finger in. Slowly, he slid the one finger all the way in, moving it about to spread the oil some before adding a second finger, scissoring them to stretch and prepare the brunette. He tried to contain himself long enough to properly prepare Harry, but he couldn't wait much longer, and so reached back over to the jar of oil, taking enough to coat his member and did so, positioning the head at Harry's entrance, using one hand to guide himself and the other to balance himself as he rocked his hips forward, pushing into the brunette underneath him. He groaned as he felt himself becoming encased in the beautiful Auror beneath him, going slowly to make sure it lasted. Draco paused once he was fully sheathed within Harry Potter's arse, suddenly struck by the notion that maybe he hadn't done enough to prepare the brunette.

"Are you—"

"Move, please," Harry hissed, running his hands up Draco's arms, and the blond nodded, pulling out some before pushing back in, working up a steady rhythm before he leaned down to capture Harry's lips in a kiss as he shagged the brunette. The rhythm he had set started to speed up, starting to become erratic and quick, and he moaned into Harry's mouth, the sound mingling with the groan Harry let out as they grabbed at each other again, pressing as close to each other as they could get. Their lips separated and Draco buried his face in Harry's shoulder, resisting the urge to sink his teeth into that sweet flesh, and before either of them had time to register what was happening, they were screaming each other's names, Draco was spilling himself in Harry Potter's arse, and Harry was smearing himself over their stomachs. They collapsed into each other's arms, and Draco carefully pulled out before curling up around Harry, feeling content and thoroughly debauched. The pair stayed the way they were for a while, catching their breath and just relaxing, before Harry's stomach growled. Draco let out a laugh and sat up, pulling Harry up with him.

"Do you have anything to eat here?" the blond asked, and when Harry shook his head no, he stood and started pulling his clothes back on. "Then get dressed. We're going back to my flat and I'm going to make you some dinner. The reporters should have gone by now." Harry hesitated at the edge of the bed.

"Are you sure? What if they haven't gone yet?" the brunette ventured, knowing that Draco was probably right but worried that he wasn't.

"If they haven't gone, I've got more Weasley pranks," the blond replied, and that settled that debate. They got dressed, and on the way out of the flat, Harry grabbed the jar of lights from off of his mantle, thinking it might be helpful. Soon enough, they were sitting at Draco's kitchen table, eating a superb London broil, if Draco did say so himself.

"Are you going to be alright sleeping alone tonight?" Harry asked as he brought a forkful of the pasta Draco had made as a side dish up to his mouth. Draco shrugged with one shoulder, looking down at his half-empty plate.

"I don't know. Maybe," he said, cutting off and eating a bite of his steak. "The last time anything like this happened, I didn't have anyone to turn to, really, and it took a long time for me to recover from it. I don't know if I ever fully recovered, to be honest."

"Then I'm staying with you tonight," Harry decided, nodding firmly and happily continuing to eat. "I'm going to stay with you every night until you're sick of me and want nothing more to do with me and one night after that, just to make sure you really don't want me around anymore. Is that alright with you?" Draco smiled a little and met Harry's gaze, feeling like something good was finally happening to him for the first time in a long time.

"I could never get sick of you," the blond asserted, and the topic of conversation turned to lighter things and easier subjects. They finished their meal and set the spells to clean everything up, spent some more time just talking to each other, and before it was really very late they were curled up in Draco's bed together, each wearing nothing more than his pants, sleeping soundly in each other's arms.

Harry was the first to wake up the next morning, and he couldn't help but smile at the visual he woke up to: Draco Malfoy, innocent in sleep, smiling dreamily at some subconscious vision. The brunette carefully extracted himself from the blond's arms, doing his best not to wake him, and recalled that he had left the jar of lights on the counter of the shop. Without a second thought about it, Harry went down into the shop, still wearing only his pants, and realized that he should have gotten dressed as the camera flashes started going off.


	19. Questions

Rita Skeeter crossed her legs as she leaned forward eagerly to Harry and Draco.

"Thank you for  _delighting_ me with this interview!"

Draco raised an eyebrow as if to ask what exactly was so delightful about the situation, but Harry answered before the blond could chime in.

"Of course. Since you have been so interested in the case we worked on before, I thought it would only be right to go to you for our first and only interview."

Skeeter's eyes gleamed wildly as her quill raced across the parchment on the small side-table beside her.

"Wonderful! Now, where to start? Perhaps wi-"

"I know!" interrupted Harry. "Perhaps we can start with what you wrote in the article from yesterday. You said that you have always known that I had been interested in men, but during my time at Hogwarts, you spent quite a bit of time writing about my romantic entanglements with girls." Skeeter pursed her lips. "Then of course there's the bit about you simply assuming that I am interested in men when I may have simply been sleeping on Draco's sofa. I also recall something about a jar and a bug…"

"Old news, Harry dear. I had that sorted with your little muggle-born friend years ago. Now, were you simply sleeping on his sofa?" Skeeter smirked maliciously.

Draco sighed.

"No. He was busy getting fucked in the arse by a bloody death eater."

Harry blinked. This was not only completely unlike the Draco he had come to know, but he had told Draco to keep to what they had planned to say. What on earth?

Skeeter choked and had to drink a bit of water before she could respond.

"You have had sexual relations then?"

Harry answered this time.

"Draco enjoys telling people what they like to hear Ms. Skeeter. And we are good fri-"

"Oh for God's sake, Potter!" Draco stood and snatched Skeeters parchment away. He took out a quill of his own and sat back down, crossing his legs before laying down his elegant cursive. He then handed the paper to Harry who sighed and signed it sloppily. When the parchment at last reached Skeeter's eyes, she was so delighted that she had to read it out loud.

"I, Draco Malfoy, have fucked Harry Potter in the arse. Rita Skeeter can use this information as she pleases." Draco had signed it and so had Harry.

"Wonderful! Well, this is all I need, boys!"

Harry cleared his throat.

"I suggest you don't use that information and just let the public think what they please when they see us out together. In fact, you are going to write about how sorry you are about lying and not really knowing what you are talking about, and you will never write a negative article about Draco Malfoy again."

This time it was Draco's turn to be surprised. Harry could see the blond questioning him with his eyes.

"Excuse me?" asked Rita.

Harry smiled, gave Rita a few inside details of the case, let her know that he and Draco were definitely a couple and that she could write that if she described it gracefully, and then he was pulling Draco out the door and back home before Skeeter could so much as raise her quill.

"What on earth were you going on about in there?"

Harry smiled.

"When one works so much trying to stop the dark arts, it's easy to learn a few things." Draco stopped walking. "That's right. I cursed the parchment. The article she writes about us will be completely positive or any story she tries to write will turn into a lengthy piece on the migrating patterns of dung beetles."

"Did you suddenly turn into a Slytherin?"

"The plan was part Slytherin, part Hermione Granger. If only you hadn't ruined my original plan with your outburst…"

"Original plan?"

Harry grinned widely.

"It involved Rita Skeeter in your shop, wearing nothing but her undergarments."

Harry and Draco were curled up on the couch together, watching a fire crackle in the fireplace. They were both tired, and more than a little bemused, from Rita Skeeter's interview. It had been interesting, to say the least, especially when she screeched loud enough for the two to hear when they were nearly a block away.

"Hey, Harry," Draco said after a while, looking over at the brunette. "Would you maybe…want to move in here? With me? I-I mean, I know it's early on and everything, a-and you're used to your flat and all, but…"

"I'd be happy to move in here with you," Harry replied, sparing Draco the agony of having to continue. "How soon would you like me?" Draco blushed slightly, and Harry smirked as he caught the expression on the blond's face. "You know what I meant, Draco, quit blushing."

"Yeah, I know what you meant," Draco sighed, smiling a little and kissing Harry's forehead. "As soon as possible, I'd say. I'd have you move in tonight, but it's late, and we've other things to do tonight." It was Harry's turn to blush, and before long, they had disappeared into Draco's bedroom, their clothes in a trail from the couch to the door.

The next day, Harry sent an owl to Kingsley's desk directly, saying that he was taking the day off for "personal health", in order to move into Draco's flat. They Apparated there the next day, bringing as much back with them in each trip as possible and getting distracted in between by each other's lips. By the end of the day, they had managed to move about half of Harry's things to the flat above the Sleeping Dragon and were having too much fun distracting each other from the moving to actually care that they were far behind schedule.

"I'll make us some dinner and tea," Harry offered, already heading towards Draco's kitchen. The blond nodded, heading for the door of the shop.

"I'll bring some things over while you're doing that," Draco replied, Apparating to the brunette's flat and gathering together as much as he could carry. Unsurprisingly, it went much more quickly without the distraction of Harry's lips and gorgeous arse always within sight, but he found he missed those distractions and that the task was far more boring without them. By the time their dinner was ready, Draco had almost caught them up on moving Harry's belongings from one flat to the other but was thoroughly frustrated.

"You look stressed," Harry observed, pulling out a chair at Draco's table. "Sit, eat, and relax, you need it." Draco smirked and took the seat being offered to him, pulling Harry down for a chaste kiss.

"What I need is a frustrating brunette distracting me for another few hours," the blond purred, but Harry simply smirked and pulled away to take his own seat at the table.

"All in good time, my dear, all in good time," Harry said, starting in on the Bolognese he'd prepared. Draco gave a half-glare, half-smirk and started in on his own plateful, reaching over throughout the meal to stroke Harry's thigh and get as dangerously close to groping the brunette as he possibly could without actually groping him. By the time they had finished their meal, they were both thoroughly aroused, and had both decided to tease each other thoroughly as they finished moving Harry's belongings into Draco's flat.

The next morning, Draco was first aware that he was not alone in his bed. He was still deep enough in sleep that he was confused as to why he wasn't alone in his bed, but awake enough to not want to find out who it was. When he finally did open his eyes, he found himself staring directly at a lightning bolt scar underneath a mop of messy black hair, and this sight made him smile, as it reminded him exactly why he wasn't alone in his bed. The blond lay where he was, watching Harry James Potter sleep soundly cuddled up around him, until the brunette opened his sleepy green eyes and looked fuzzily up at Draco, smiling. The blond leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the Auror's lips, happy to have woken up to such a beautiful sight, and to know that he would be waking up to that sight for a long time to come.

Several years later, Draco stood behind the till of the Sleeping Dragon, teaching a sixth year Hufflepuff girl how to work it and how to look up items in the registry when the door opened and someone walked in. Draco looked up and smiled, seeing Harry Potter standing just inside the door, pretending to look at some of the cacti, obviously stalling to give Draco time to finish his lesson. When they were finished, Draco made his way over to the brunette, who was at that time looking rather closely at an asphodel sapling.

"Can I help you with anything this fine day, sir?" the shop owner asked with a grin, and Harry responded with nothing but a sly grin at first.

"I think you can help me with something," the brunette replied, one hand fiddling with something in the pocket of his official Ministry trousers. "Draco…can I ask you something?"


End file.
